Many many thanks to Ashtrees and Wikketkrittet for your lovely review, which act as wonderful motivation to keep writing.

Johannesburg

The airfield was dreadfully dull so early in the morning. The monotony of the sun filtering through the glass at just the wrong angle, the bite of the breeze that hadn't warmed up yet, and the incessant chirping of birds was enough to remind Deborah why she never arrived on time.

Add to that the fact that the rest of the crew hadn't arrived yet, and what was left was a recipe for boredom that even the interesting book that Carolyn had left on her desk wasn't enough to keep her entertained. Instead, Deborah sprawled out on the sofa, tapping the fingers of one hand against the other wrist, listening to the click clack of her nails on the glass watch face.

Martin should arrive soon; he was endlessly routine in that aspect. It wouldn't do to be late, and she knew that he always came into work early to get his things in order without the hassle of his colleagues to shatter the peace of the morning.

He would have to endure her this morning. The only reason Deborah had gotten out of bed so early was to get Martin on his own. Six months ago she wouldn't have dared even mentioning what she had in mind, but Martin had grown as a person, even if it was just a fraction, and even if she did say so herself, Deborah thought that they were friends…sort of.

A clattering outside the door alerted Deborah to Martin's impending presence. While Martin could be hear cursing under his breath at the sticking latch, Deborah sat up straight, perching on the edge of the cushions with her hands folded over her lap. He would be much more receptive if she didn't look like she would rather be in bed.

When the door finally swung open, and Martin stepped through, coat hooked over one elbow, he was humming a jaunty tune, which trailed off as he saw Deborah. His eye widened in surprise, and his lips curled upwards at the sight; Deborah smiled pleasantly, batting her eyelashes for extra effect. Anything to win him over.

"Hello Martin!" she trilled, enjoying his bewildered expression as he shut the door behind him and hooked his coat over the hook in the corner, migrating to his desk before turning to lean against the edge, arms stretched behind him to rest on the plastic top, "How are you today? Good?"

Martin nodded slowly, still eyeing her warily, a strange smile lighting his cheeks up.

"I'm alright…" he replied, "Why are you…here?"

"I work here." Deborah retorted, rolling her eyes affectionately. She watched as Martin visibly processed that, and then shook his head, pursing his lips in suspicion; she didn't think he looked mad, per say, just curious.

"I mean, why are you here so early?" Martin reiterated, crinkling his nose in thought, "You're never here on – you're scheming, aren't you?"

"I'm not scheming!" Deborah sighed, placing a hand over her chest in mock offence, shaking her head and allowing a few strands of hair to fall over her eyes before she blew them away; when she did, peered up at Martin through her eyelashes, making sure to gaze into his blue eyes, "I came to see you."

Martin's cheeks pinked a little, and he blinked in shock, although he cleared his throat awkwardly to cover it up.

"Really?" he asked, sounding far too pleased with himself; Deborah couldn't find it in her heart to hold that against him. It meant that things were going as she wanted them to.

"Yes, Martin." Deborah replied, sighing deeply "I know it's a lot, but I need to ask you just a little, tiny little favour."

She did her best to look apologetic and abashed, but Martin's mouth made an 'oh' shape and he brought his hands up to bury into his pockets, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"Of course you do…" he groaned, his tone taking lower, harder edge that it gained with despair; he nodded pointedly at her, "What is it?"

Taking that as her cue to move, Deborah rose carefully to her feet, and being treading carelessly across the room towards him, fingers still intertwined even as she swung her arms lightly, getting just the right amount of innocent allure into her walk.

"You should know, before I tell you, that I only ask this because, of all my acquaintances, you are the one that I trust most implicitly." Deborah explained, pouting slightly as she approached; Martin's lips thinned, and his shoulders tensed, but he kept his eyes on her, peering down his nose when there was only a foot between them, "And because you are the only one with the skills-"

"You mean you want to do something on GERTI and you can't without running it past me." Martin retorted breaking eye contact and turning his head to glare into the corner of the porta-cabin.

"You're almost right – but don't be like that Martin, this isn't a bad thing." Deborah insisted; she tapped him on the shoulder, and retracted her hand hastily when he turned back and reluctantly met her gaze, "It's my daughter's birthday, and I thought that I could surprise her with GERTI, but you're right – I can't do it without you…I need you."

Uncertainty began to gnaw at the edges of her psyche, but Deborah waited patiently as Martin chewed at his bottom lip, his eyes flickering up and down her as if sizing her up and deciding whether to listen to her request. He was thinking about it, which was a massive step up from when they had first met. Deborah couldn't help the rush of affection at that knowledge.

"What would this entail?" Martin asked finally; Deborah let out a sigh of relief, curling her fingers where she held her hands between them, hanging in the air as if ready to jump into some kind of yet undetermined action.

"You don't need to worry, I've got it all worked out." Deborah assured him, grinning at the possibility of persuading him; Martin was interested, she could tell that much from the slight cock of his head, and the searching light in his eyes as they traced her features for something she could only guess at, "It's just us and Arthur on today's flight, so I thought that you and I could fill the hold with boiled sweets, which I've already purchased, and then drop them over her party, which is at noon. She'll love it – I know I would have."

Martin's forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows knitted in thought; he shook his head, shuffling his hands where they dug into his pockets.

"But we'd have to be close to the ground, and get the weight and timing calculations right…and even then, it's a tricky manoeuvre." He reasoned, shrugging apologetically, the corner of his lip between his teeth.

"That's why I need you." Deborah assured him, making sure to sound as imploring as possible; deciding to make doubly sure of Martin's compliance, she realised that she would need to appeal to his ego; stepping forward an inch, Deborah placed her hands of the lapels as his jacket, and stroked through the polyester, as if adjusting his jacket for him, "Of all the people I've met Captain, and that is a lot of people, I've never met anyone as talented at mathematics as you. If you did the calculations, I'm sure everything would be fine."

When she tilted her head back, batting her eyelashes, fingers still brushing down the front of his jacket and wandering to readjust his tie, Deborah was pleased to see that Martin's gaze was fixed firmly on her, and he was blushing at the compliment.

"Well…uh…" Martin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and shuffled his arms, clearing his throat awkwardly; his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he continued with as much measured pride as he could, "It definitely sounds do-able."

"Excellent." Deborah drawled, beaming at Martin without moving from his space, "So you'll help me?"

"Where does your ex live?" Martin asked in substitution for a response; Deborah felt a flutter of victory in her stomach, as she knew that there was no way he would back out now. He was caught, and she wasn't going to let him go so easily; they might actually have fun.

"Barrow-in-Furness." She replied plainly, still smiling.

"That's not on the way to Paris!" Martin exclaimed, eyes widening in what Deborah assumed was bemused exasperation as he threw up his hands either side of him; that was a good sign, "Carolyn will kill us."

"Then we don't tell her." Deborah amended curtly, shifting her hands from Martin's tie to rest on his shoulders, "We just make a detour to Barrow-in-Furness, and then go straight to Paris when we're done."

Martin shook his head, amazed, as he rubbed a hand over his face, meeting Deborah's gaze with unrestrained amusement.

"Deborah – this is completely unprofessional, and against the rules, and-" he insisted, trying to make her see where he was coming from. Deborah wouldn't be swayed; she was certain that Martin would help her now, he just needed a push.

Friends were supposed to get in trouble together, it was how it worked.

"Please Martin…" Deborah implored, in a soft tone, smiling warmly, as she squeezed his shoulders lightly, rubbing down with her thumbs; Martin paused, eyebrows scrunching in thought; he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands in the meantime, and at one point Deborah even felt them brush past her waist, "For me…"

Martin groaned, squeezing his eyes closed as if it pained him.

"Fine!" he agreed, opening his eyes to meet Deborah's wide grin, exhaling loudly as she finally let her hands slide from his shoulders, and flounced back to her own desk.

They would need to be quick, and Martin would have to work out the calculations, but Deborah was practically thrumming with anticipation. Not only would her daughter be thrilled, but she and Martin were actually going to have fun together, rather than at each other's expense.

She watched as Martin's eyes followed her around the room; he might have his misgivings, but Deborah wasn't going to let him back out now. It would be character building, and everything was going to be fine.

oOoOoOo

It wasn't fine, not at all. On a more positive note, the failure of a birthday treat did appear to have worked in terms of strengthening their friendship.

Apparently the main benefit of putting together a scheme with Martin was that he would assume half of the responsibility, which meant that when it went wrong, he wouldn't shout or criticise, he would merely turned his head at the same time that you did, meet your gaze with equally wide and guilty eyes, gnaw at his bottom lip, and decide mutually with you that it was probably best to just fly to Paris and pretend that nothing happened.

Deborah had to admit, for someone so fond of the rules, Martin could be a devious bugger when caught in a rut. Which suited her just fine.

If nothing else, they were now joined in the friendly solidarity that came with the knowledge of a monumental cock-up, and the wilful ignorance of their employer's impending wrath. If that didn't count as team work, she didn't know what did.

oOoOoOo

"I disagree with your decision Martin." Deborah announced dully; she kept her arms folded petulantly over her chest as Martin began preparing to land in Spain. The anti-icing wasn't working, but that was hardly a problem when flying over Africa; not enough to warrant losing them a thousand pounds each over extra landing and repair fees.

The only reason she wasn't calling Carolyn up to the flight-deck to sort him out was because she knew that Martin wasn't doing it for the sake of disagreeing with her; he reasoned out his decision, and he simply couldn't help being pedantically careful about every little thing.

Deborah could appreciate Martin being Martin, especially after he had shown such tremendous loyalty under Carolyn's onslaught, sticking by her and even sniggering a little at the jokes that she slipped in. And he didn't complain about having to find money saving tactics, he just went along with it. Martin was a good friend, but he was also a bloody pest.

"I know that you disagree," Martin replied, as if he were talking to a child; he spared her a sideways glance, but was otherwise preoccupied adjusting various dials, "But I made a command decision to land. Thank you for taking that so well."

"I'm not taking it well, I'm complaining." Deborah grumbled, slouching back in her seat. She turned her head to the side and rested her cheek against the cushion so that she could glare at Martin from a better angle. It made it so much easier to see his freckled cheeks and his smug little smirk.

"But you're complaining so politely, and I thank you for that." Martin remarked, as if he were so enjoying his little power trip; in actuality, Deborah knew that he was merely having fun with her, but it helped to pretend otherwise, lest she seem acceptant of their detour, "Good team work!"

"I swear Martin, if you being up team work one more time, we won't make it to the ground." Deborah drawled tersely, forcing back a reflexive smile at the one Martin shot her.

"Look, Deborah, you'll be thanking me when the engineers tell us what's wrong, and we find out that we could have fallen out the sky." Martin explained prissily, "It's always better to be safe than sorry."

Deborah hummed under her breath and rolled her eyes, rolling her shoulders back with a groan.

"You know, you're much more fun when you're not performing the manual's bidding word for word." Deborah remarked, "I actually enjoyed pulling off the stunt with the sweets together, it was nice."

"But it was exactly that, a stunt." Martin countered, shrugging apologetically, "And it proved how things go wrong when we're not completely professional."

"You're the mathematical genius – why didn't you realise the sweets would melt?" Deborah teased, quirking her eyebrow demonstratively at Martin, holding the expression until he turned his head and observed it for himself.

He chuckled, but carried on preparing them for landing without another word, save those that instructed her to perform certain actions.

oOoOoOo

Deborah's patience was wearing thin. The airfield manager was a pain in the neck, and it had taken all her energy to speak in measured sentences, unhindered by expletives. It didn't help that Carolyn had been chipping in from the sides for the entirety of the conversation, making her grit her teeth and grasp at any opportunity that passed her way.

Carolyn had gone ahead to tell Martin and Arthur what was happening, while Deborah had accompanied the manager to find the keys to the baggage truck. It wasn't her best plan, but it would have to do.

As she walked back across the airfield towards GERTI, she was with a slight bemusement that Martin had shirked his jacket, and pushed his sleeves to his elbows against the heat, but was still wearing his tie around his neck like a safety line.

"Apparently I'm driving to Albacete to find the engineer." Martin remarked uncertainly, his hand tipped against his head against the sun, that was already turning his cheeks slightly red.

Deborah flung the keys at him, and to her surprise, he caught them first time. She needed to get away from Carolyn for a while, and a few hours' drive might do her good, especially as it would put her as far away from both mother and son, the roots of the majority of headaches she had experienced in the past few years.

"Correct, Captain." Deborah replied jauntily, "I'll come with you, just in case."

"Oh no, Deborah," Carolyn chipped in, smirking like a shark watching its favourite prey flounder, hands joined delicately at her front, "Arthur will be helping Martin. You are needed here – you did bet that you could make today run smoothly under budget. There are figures to calculate."

"But Martin's the one that does the numbers…" Deborah swore that she didn't whine; Carolyn merely shook her head and shrugged carelessly. Deborah turned swiftly to Martin, gazing imploringly up at him.

"I'm sorry, can't help you." Martin smiled a thin lipped, apologetic grimace, and started to stride towards the baggage truck, which Arthur was already eagerly perched inside, watching the proceedings with a muted curiosity.

Before he could take more than a few steps, Deborah darted forward and lightly grasped his exposed wrist in both hands, tugging him around to face her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back.

"Please don't leave me here, she's being insufferable." She begged, pouting for added effect. Martin scoffed and smirked, cheeks reddening in the sun, but slipped his wrist from between her hands.

"Don't leave me…" Deborah cried in a stage whisper, feeling suddenly betrayed, after all they had been through in the last few days, "Take me with you!"

Martin chuckled, the sound reverberating from his chest, and his smile stretched into a grin that he tried to batten down.

"Have fun." He chirped, and then turned his back on her and hopped into the baggage truck, leaving Deborah standing, one hand on her hip, certain that Carolyn was mentally mocking her behind her back.

oOoOoOo

If anything good had come out of the day, it was the fact that stripped down to shorts and a white t-shirt, and covered in the remnants of a bucket of car tinted water, Deborah was actually quite cool despite the heat.

Inwardly grumbling, she wandered around GERTI and towards the steel steps, on which Carolyn was waiting for her. Martin and Arthur still weren't back yet, and Deborah was beginning to give up hope.

There was also the slight problem created when she realised quite how dependent she had allowed herself to become on Martin's presence. Since the moment he had left, the thoughts that had drifted through her head all followed one pattern.

Why isn't Martin back yet? He would have these sums done in half the time, why isn't he answering my calls and giving me the answers over the phone? This was Martin's job, not hers. If Martin were here, he'd be the one arguing with the airfield manager, and then she could sweep in while he spluttered and fix the problem. She was glad Martin wasn't there to see her washing the bloody BMW; it wasn't like she wasn't down to earth enough to get her hands dirty, but Martin would never let her live it down. Or perhaps he should be here, so that she could make a show of the chore, get him to blush and splutter, that would be a fun game. Why isn't Martin back? He should be back by now? Martin, Martin, Martin…

She never had that problem at home, but then again, Deborah supposed that Martin wasn't a part of her home life, and therefore she didn't notice his absence. In contrast, Martin very much defined her work life.

Which was an eye opener, if nothing else.

Carolyn smirked smugly as Deborah lowered herself onto the steel steps just below her.

"Done and dusted then?" Carolyn inquired sadistically; Deborah shot her and disgruntled huff over her shoulder, but otherwise ignored her in favour of staring at her watch and counting down the seconds and the ticking hand travelled, "Now all that hangs in the balance is whether Martin and Arthur can get the engineer here on time."

"Twenty to five." Deborah sighed in exasperation, pressing the heel of her hand over her eyes, "That's definitely it, then."

"You've said that every five minutes since four o'clock." Carolyn noted dryly; she patted Deborah's shoulder in a strange façade of soothing, though it was meant to be anything but.

"Yes! But there's no way we can do it now, even if …" Deborah was about to give up completely, raising her hands in exhausted surrender, when from the edge of the airfield came a jaunty, cheerful song; Deborah felt her face light up, and she hopped to her feet as the baggage truck roared into view, "Oh, look!"

She had known Martin would be able to fetch the engineer without messing it up; really, she had. Deborah waited long enough for them to park the truck, and for three of them to finish their song and leap to the ground before striding to Martin's side, lightened by an odd sense of joy at the sight of him. Arthur was still chatting to the engineer, but he was of little interest to her at that moment.

The first thing she noticed, save for the confident set of Martin's shoulders and the redness where he had caught the sun, was the new adornment perched on the bridge of his nose. Now that was fascinating.

"Martin!" Deborah exulted, almost throwing her arms around him and then thinking better of it, instead grinning up at him, making no effort to hide her relief, even as she smirked, "Good lord! Maverick flies again."

"Hello, Deborah." Martin sighed, probably rolling his eyes behind his shades; as he continued, he placed a guiding, or herding, arm around her back and began walking pointedly, before remembering that there were things to be done first and halting, arm still in place ready to start again, "Can I suggest you save all the jokes about my shades for now and we'll have them in a nice long stream once we get airborne."

"Oh, but I like these – this is a smashing look on you" Deborah insisted, reaching up to pluck them from his face, having to bring herself almost chest to chest with him for a fraction of a second; she only inspected them for a moment, appreciating the way his eyes narrowed and his nose crinkled at the loss, so placed the shades gently over his eyes.

"Ha ha, very funny" Martin shook his head and retorted curtly, pushing his shades further up his nose as if afraid she might not have done a good job. He retracted the arm around Deborah's back, but she didn't move away, focused instead on placing a hand lightly on his shoulder to make sure she wasn't misunderstood.

"I mean it." Deborah assured him, earning a raised eyebrow beneath the shades and a confused but flattered sway in Martin's posture, as he placed his hands over his trouser pockets without slipping them in, "You look very dashing captain, my heart is all a-stir."

He really did look rather nice, although Deborah was willing to bet that it was something about the lack of stuttering or self-consciousness that was catching her attention. It was both un-Martin-like and very Martin-ish at the same time. There was nothing wrong with being appreciative.

"Fantastic Deborah, but we're in a hurry." Martin replied, sounding unsure, but set upon his course of action; the arm returned to her back, a solid presence, and Deborah was herded towards where Carolyn, Arthur, and the engineer had collated, "This is Diego: a fine engineer, a useful light baritone and a man with an inexhaustible knowledge of how Spanish animals go. Diego, do your Spanish cockerel."

"Ki-kiri-ki!" Diego obediently let out a strange noise, and Deborah was unsure how to react, settling for simply nodding politely.

Well, at least Martin had enjoyed himself while she worried herself silly here.

"Yep, that's my favourite one." Martin remarked swiftly; he pointed demonstratively between the plane and the truck and delivered instructions firmly and confidently, "Now, then, Diego, here's the wing. Get to work. Arthur, park the truck."

"Er, where?" Arthur asked, half turned as if to snap into action, half frozen waiting for orders.

"Er, well behind the plane, by that … wet car." Martin instructed, pausing in his rush of secure movement to stare perplexed at the soggy BMW; Arthur rushed away to do as he was told, and Martin surged back into action, herding Deborah once again towards the steel steps into GERTI while waving an arm for Carolyn to follow,"You two, get on board and prepare to leave immediately!"

Carolyn complied without complaint, but on the first step Deborah whirled around and grasped at Martin's sleeve before he could run away to do the walk-around. Martin allowed her to pull him to stand in front of her, putting at roughly the same height, half a foot from each other.

"But Martin, we've only got twenty minutes before they shut the Tower. He can't possibly fix it …" Deborah insisted, but Martin merely shook his head and placed steadying hands on both of her upper arms.

"Certainly he can. A man who can imitate a Spanish squirrel helping forty-eight men mow a meadow is capable of anything." Martin reassured her, as if that were a legitimate argument in any discussion, "Now, come on: we have to get a move on."

A flare of something in Deborah's chest made her smile part-way to a smirk, as she surveyed Martin's expression. He was being wonderfully authoritative, and it suited him rather well. Such a rush of affection could only prompt in her a fond tease, as she placed her hands softly over his elbows where his arms stretched between them.

"In other words, you feel the need – the need for speed." Deborah suggested, grinning as Martin exhaled long and thoroughly, tipping his head to the side in exasperation, though he didn't take his hands from her.

"Seriously, Deborah. Save them for later." He sighed; he moved as if to slip away, but Deborah held onto his elbows, keeping them together.

"May I just say Martin, you have never sounded more like the Captain than you do now." She drawled, adding a fluidity to her movement and voice; she tried to hold his gaze, but it was incredibly difficult to do so through his shades. It probably looked more like staring.

"I thought I just said we don't have time." Martin's tone hardened, and his shoulders tensed ever so slightly; Deborah realised that he didn't believe her, and in the same moment realised that it was very important that he did.

"Yes you did…" she agreed, purring the continuation of her point; it might not have been necessary, but she couldn't help it, the flushing of his cheeks even under the sunburn reward enough, "Very commanding, giving orders like that. Wonderfully dominant, Captain Crieff."

"Yes, well – back on the plane" Martin cleared his throat nervously, and his stance regained some of the anxious sway that it always had.

And…now you're you again…" Deborah sighed fondly, rolling her eyes and allowing Martin to bring his arms back to his own sides, missing the weight on her arms before they had even gone; in a moment of impulse, she darted forward and framed Martin's face with her hands, tapping the edges of the shades, "I love these shades!"

Deborah grinned playfully as Martin blushed further, pushing at the shades to make them lie just right, clearing his throat again as she retreated up the steps. Martin may be spluttering again, but she refused to feel self-conscious. There was nothing wrong with making him feel good about himself…and nothing wrong with letting him know that she…cared?

They were friends after all; Deborah felt confident saying that they had built up some sense of companionship over the last few days. Which was good; it made her feel lighter than she had in a while.

A lightness that faded once she was seated in the flight-deck, waiting for Martin to return, angsting over the inevitable loss of money that she faced. She turned hastily in her seat when the door to the flight-deck clanged open, and Martin rushed through, dropping ungainly into his seat and shoving his hat unceremoniously onto his head.

"Done." Martin reported breathlessly, sagging and turning to look at Deborah, though he still had his shades on, making it hard to tell quite what he was thinking.

"You did the walk-round?" Deborah asked, making no efforts to hide the disbelief in her tone; she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"Yes!" Martin replied swiftly; his head kept twitching to the side as if he were keeping an ear out for the engineer.

"In forty-five seconds?" she retorted pleasantly; she was versed enough in Martin's habits to know that that couldn't be the case.

"More of a jog-around but I saw everything I needed to see." Martin was still catching his breath, and he straightened out the lines of his shirt, smoothing out the creases with the palms of his hands.

"But your walk-rounds take days!" Deborah exclaimed, staring at the Captain with barely restrained bewilderment.

"Well, maybe I've gained a little faith in my instincts as a pilot." Martin retorted tautly, in a rougher, adamant tone; he removed his shades and folded them in his hand as he fixed Deborah with a redundant glare.

"I can tell, it's done wonders." She replied, letting her admiration show; Deborah settled comfortably back in her seat, but couldn't release the tension from her back, highly aware that Martin was scrutinising her from across the flight-deck.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Martin demanded indignantly, rapping the fingers from his free hand against the arm of his chair. Deborah was mildly insulted by the insinuation in his gaze, but the feeling didn't stick.

"Nothing…I just hope this new confident you is here to stay…" Deborah purred, widening her eyes and smirking slightly, "I rather like him."

"Um…thank you…" Martin shifted unconsciously, looking away from her face and fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt; Deborah counted that as a victory as Martin adopted a professional aura, "Now, how are we doing?

"Seven minutes to five. Cabin ready; pre-take-off checks done." She reported obediently, flicking a switch to her right, "How about the anti-icing?"

"Diego's still looking at it." Martin remarked, leaning forward to start preparing GERTI for flight.

Deborah's heart sank; after all their efforts, they were still going to get stuck there, and she would be a grand out of pocket. She didn't even want to think about how Martin was going to cover that loss; the thought made a twinge of guilt alight in her gut at the reminder that she had dragged Martin into her gamble with Carolyn.

'Trust me' she had said; again, that had borne only rotten fruits.

"Well, then, why are we bothering? There's no way …" Deborah cursed, sagging dejectedly.

Then there was a knock on the flight-deck door, and the engineer announced his presence, and a flicker of hope ignited. Deborah sighed inwardly as Martin began talking in quick fire rounds with Diego. They were actually going to pull this off!

There was no way that things could get any worse now…

A bit more scattered and brief in places than usual, but I think that works for this episode. I'm trying to introduce gradual shifts into the relationships, such as more physical contact, etc.

I hope you enjoy it : )