Hello everyone, and thank you for the great response to the last chapter - it was very much appreciated : )
As you can see, this next chapter is as ridiculously long as the last (you can tell which episodes are my favourites)
Please do enjoy
Rotterdam
Life moved on. That was one truth that Deborah had learned never failed; no matter what happened, how many huge mistakes you made, or how long it took to recover, life would move on. It might not be better, and it might not be worse, but at least you wouldn't be stuck in the same rut as before.
In hindsight, offering to fall into bed with Martin hadn't been a good idea, and she was lucky that he was a decent enough man, and a perfect enough friend, to see that and do something about it. A month later and just as they had decided, they had moved on to brighter and better pastures, as fully functioning friends.
Although it might have troubled some people to know that there was a mutual attraction between them and their closest friend, Deborah had found that life actually became easier now that she didn't have to pretend that she wasn't admiring Martin from across the flight-deck, and knowing what Martin was thinking when his eyes lingered over her was immensely freeing.
It didn't solve the other feelings, the churning in her guts, the moths that raged in her chest with proximity, the disappointment when she flew alone, or the myriad of times Martin would wander across her mind at odd times, but Deborah supposed that that couldn't be helped; life went so much more smoothly when she wasn't complicating it with her own emotional conflicts.
The morning after their embarrassing altercation, Deborah had gone back to Parkside Terrace around mid-afternoon, determined not to let the previous night get in the way of her being there for Martin as a friend; it had occurred to her around midnight, when she had been tossing and turning, that Martin could be up and about, and in far less pain, if someone kind were to fetch him an ankle support from the chemist.
Martin had been perfectly welcoming; he blushed and mumbled as much as he usually did, and rushed about to close cupboards and straighten rogue objects, but overall, he was far more relaxed about letting her into his home. Deborah had almost sighed then groaned in relief when she realised that everything was fine, and that they could very easily have a cup of coffee and then hunker down on his bed to finish watching the news channel that Martin had muted when she entered, with the minimum of fuss.
She may have caught Martin watching her tentatively out of the corner of his eyes, but that was only because Deborah was doing the same, just to make sure that he wasn't regretting trying to function as normal around her.
Flights had even been better. That wasn't to say that they hadn't had fun before, but there was so much less tension between them; it was as if the strings had been cut and they could just enjoy themselves now that they knew exactly where they stood with each other.
Deborah couldn't be sure, of course, but she even suspected that they had become more…physically comfortable. It seemed as if Martin no longer found any issue with brushing past her in the flight-deck by putting his hands on her shoulders and physically rotating her out of the way, and there had been quite a few times when Deborah had caught one of them leaning their weight against the other, brushing arms as they waited, leaning over the other's shoulder at their desks.
All in all, the world was simply a far more pleasant place to be all of a sudden.
When Deborah slowed the car on the way into the airfield on one particular morning, it was overcast and damp, but what caught her attention was not the way that the corner of the grass that surrounded the car park and porta-cabin was leaking a puddle onto the tarmac, but rather the fact that the spot next to hers was bereft of its usual occupant. It was a strange and bewildering notion that she might have actually turned up for work before Martin.
Though she wouldn't admit it to anyone who asked (even though she was certain that Karl could see the entire airfield from his tower), Deborah paused once was out of her car to turn a little circuit on her heel, as if scanning the area with furrowed eyebrows might make a Captain appear. When that didn't work, she simply shrugged her shoulders and made her way across to the porta-cabin; it wasn't as if it was a big loss, Deborah had just become accustomed to their routine.
To her surprise, Carolyn and Arthur were both already in the porta-cabin, going about their own business; well, Arthur was laying back on the sofa, an old video camera strapped to his hand and pressed to his eye as he aimed it at various points on the ceiling, and Carolyn was seated at Deborah's desk, collecting documents from the printer.
Carolyn barely spared her a glance, but as Deborah hooked her coat over the stand, Arthur lurched around so that his feet hit the ground, and brought the camera around to focus on her, before letting his hands drop into his lap, smiling broadly, brimming with excitement.
"Deborah, guess what we're doing today!" Arthur exclaimed by way of greeting, as Deborah wandered towards her desk, coming to a stop by the sofa that she had forced Martin to drag across the room to sit beside it only a week ago; it had been too far of a walk between procrastinating vertically and procrastinating horizontally, "You're going to love it!"
Deborah pursed her lips and nodded sagely, taking another covert glance at the camera in his hand, and then at Carolyn's preoccupied expression that hadn't shifted at the declaration, instead of voicing her concerns; as always with Arthur, what excited him could be great, or spell doom for those around him.
"Tell you what, Arthur," Deborah compromised, pulling her arms across her chest and smiling wanly, "Give me a minute, then instead of guessing, you can just tell me seeing as you're so thrilled by the idea of whatever it is."
"Oh, brilliant." Arthur agreed, nodding in acceptance; he didn't wait for her to reply, but merely slouched back into the sofa and restarted his fiddling, making little humming noises under his breath, as Deborah supposed that he was testing the zoom function.
Leaving him to it, Deborah rounded her desk, coming to a stop just beside her chair, which was still very much occupied as Carolyn scratched one of her pens over the documents that she had printed off; as Deborah squinted down, trying not to seem too interested, she had to quash her confusion, as they didn't look at all professional. In fact, it looked as if Carolyn had typed them up on a word processor.
"I would congratulate you for making it into work almost on time," Carolyn remarked dryly, finally sitting back, banging the paper against the desk like a pack of cards after a deal, and raising a quaint eyebrow as she met Deborah's gaze; a smarmy glint danced across her eyes, and Deborah knew before she spoke further that she should prepare herself for a sigh and an eye roll, "but I don't think that was for my sake, now was it."
"Hmmm," Deborah replied, rolling her eyes and released a sigh filled with well-practiced exasperation, as she tapped her fingers against the elbow that they were wrapped around, "Where is Martin?"
"He phoned me last night to ask if he could have a few hours to lie in this morning," Carolyn explained, pursing her lips and shaking her head as if it were the height of indignity; with only the barest amount of huffing that was required in someone of her age, Carolyn hoisted herself to her feet, and used the paper that she had rolled between her hands to gesture pointedly at Deborah's chest, as if it were her fault that their Captain was absent, "he said it was because he had a late van job. I only let him because we're not actually flying today."
"Oh, of course," Deborah exhaled, nodding and stepping back to allow Carolyn to leave the cramped space between their conjoined desks; Martin had mentioned the previous night, when she had texted him to find out how the job in question was going, that it would probably stretch into the night; seeing the inquisitive pinch that Carolyn's face took on as she turned back, it occurred to Deborah that perhaps it was best not to let Carolyn have that little piece of ammunition, and to move the conversation onwards, "So, what are we doing today?"
"Well-" Carolyn started, but Deborah but her off, placing a hand flat in the air between them and shaking her head, raising her eyebrows sternly as she ignored the offended snort that her employer released.
"No, Carolyn, I promised Arthur that he could tell me." Deborah said decidedly, strolling back towards the sofa and dropping into the space that was left as Arthur hastily withdrew his legs from their perch; drawing herself up until she was poised and smiling indulgently, Deborah placed her hands together over her lap and asked over Carolyn's huff, "So, Arthur – what are we doing today that you think I'm going to love?"
"You are going to love it!" Arthur insisted, straightening his back and hunching forwards to meet her; the smile on his face was charged with anticipation rather than his usual contented adornment, "Today…" he sucked in a breath, Deborah assumed for suspense, although it only served to make her nod encouragingly, biting her tongue, "We're filming a video!"
"Well, that explains the camera." Deborah drawled, mostly to prolong the time that she had to process the new information; considering how often Carolyn bothered them about wasting time, this seemed to fall straight into that category, "Dare I ask what said video is in aid of?"
She turned to Carolyn at this point, blinking curiously up at the woman, who was standing, tapping her rolled paper against the other arm.
"It is in aid of company advertisement." Carolyn explained, in a tone of voice that made it very clear exactly what she thought of the farcical idea; Deborah didn't quite share in her disdain just yet, "For the sake of making MJN more professional, Mr Alyakhin has asked that we at least have a welcome message and a safety demonstration ready to show his clients, as if they were all too dense to understand a three dimensional person."
Deborah held back a chuckle, ducking her head briefly and raising her hand to cover her lips, so that she had time to restrain the small smirk that would only get her in trouble on a day that now sounded like far too much fun to be excluded from; just the idea of them trying to act was hilarious…and intriguing.
"So who have you elected to star in this motion picture?" Deborah inquired, feigning nonchalance, darting her arm out to balance herself as Arthur shifted beside her to perch on the edge of the sofa, making her tip sideways.
It wouldn't do to sound too excited; Carolyn might refuse to let her take part just to annoy her. She had done so before. Such a feat was difficult, and Deborah had to make sure her hands were carefully positioned so that they couldn't be seen curling, though she was sure that her eyes were bright enough to give away her inner musings.
Deborah wanted to act; given the chance, she would be the star, even if it was just a tacky video that would be played at the start of the occasional flight. She loved acting; more than that, she loved being able to dazzle with her highly honed skills and show off in front of a camera. Amateur dramatics at school had been enough to satiate her enthusiasm, but Deborah had had to give that up to make way for the more academic subjects required to gain entrance to medical school. One last hurrah would be fantastic.
"Well, as CEO of MJN, and head stewardess, I will be addressing the customers." Carolyn replied dryly, quirking her eyebrow and holding Deborah's gaze, as if daring her to speak otherwise; Deborah merely shrugged and nodded in acceptance, pouting her lips distractedly.
"And I'm going to help with the demonstrations in the safety section." Arthur added, passing the camera from hand to hand and leaning his elbows on his knees, "You're going to do the filming, because Mum says you've got the steadiest hands."
"Far steadier than Arthur's at any rate." Carolyn muttered, eyeing the camera as it passed clumsily through the air; Deborah extended her hand to place her hand over Arthur's effectively halting the inevitable path of doom.
"I am a ready and willing director." Deborah drawled, smirking and waggling her palm until she felt the hard plastic of the camera land securely in her hand; Carolyn rolled her eyes, but sighed nonetheless.
"Cameraman, not director." Carolyn corrected, but she turned her attention to Arthur, holding out the rolled paper for him to take and setting her chin as sternly as possible, "Here, Arthur, is your script. Take it, learn it, do not add your own words to it."
"Will do." Arthur chirped, taking the script and opening it in his hands; it was evident, Deborah thought as she peered across to inspect once again the words written on the page, that Arthur would do anything but what he had just been asked.
Tutting as she went, Carolyn let her hands fall to her sides, palms open to the world as if she were praying for peace, or a quick smiting if nothing else, and strode back to Deborah's desk, lowering herself into the rolling chair and leaning forwards to begin flicking through the files that had been left haphazardly across its top.
Deborah took that to mean that she wouldn't be doing any real work for the time being; she had even been good the last week, making sure to remind Martin to do all of the mathematical and accounting related documents for her, so there was nothing that Carolyn could find to make her fill out.
As the other two became engrossed in their own areas (to as much of an extent as Arthur could become engrossed in rote learning) looked down at the camera in her hands as an excuse to think without interruption, twisting dials to seem as if she were experimenting.
Deborah wasn't disappointed; Carolyn would realise that she didn't possess the natural disposition towards theatrics, and Arthur was obviously inappropriate for the more serious acting. When that happened, Deborah would be called upon to take the mantle and raise MJN to the heights that it deserved.
True, Martin would want to do it; she highly suspected that Martin might push her in front of a car if he thought it would gain the car's approval, no matter how much he cared for her.
No…Deborah could wait, and when they were begging her to star in the video, she could make it seem like a chore and earn even more out of it. She briefly considered that she should probably have felt guilty, but it was a victimless crime, and Deborah deserved some reward after everything that she did for the company.
After a while, and still no sign of Martin, Deborah shot Arthur a sideways glance; he had slouched further back into the sofa, turning until his back was wedged in the crook between the arm and back, and was flicking the papers back and forth, staring into space.
"Did anything happen with that nice young woman from the library?" Deborah inquired, leaning back and folding one leg over the other, resting both hands over the camera in her lap, "I've been waiting on the edge of my seat for you to report back to me."
"Oh, you mean Lily? Yeah, she is lovely." Arthur answered swiftly, slipping back into alertness with ease, a dopey smile curling his lips and he ran one hand across the back of his neck and through his hair; Deborah thought that his response wasn't quite as chipper as she had expected, but then again, the first buds of love made many people even more slow witted than usual, "I managed to get her to talk to me, and we've had coffee a few times – though I haven't convinced her to have coffee outside of the library yet."
"How were you having coffee inside the library?" Deborah asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion; the last she checked, Fitton's library wasn't catering to the hungry.
"She works there, so she's got some in the staff room." Arthur explained, as Deborah nodded and 'oh-ed' as appropriate; she had been right, she thought as he frowned slightly, "I haven't asked her out properly yet, because I'm not sure if she'd want to."
"I told you Arthur," Carolyn interjected from across the room; Deborah quirked an eyebrow pointedly at her; she knew full well that Carolyn was always listening, "Either take the girl on a date, or walk away. This procrastinating is getting dull very quickly."
"Do you not approve?" Deborah inquired before Arthur could defend himself, smirking at the demure stiffness in Carolyn's posture.
"She hasn't got a silly name, so I have no problem with this Lily." Carolyn replied shortly, taking care to place the folder that she was rifling through (Martin's folder, so she wouldn't find anything there) down on the desk and roll the chair around so that she could address the sofa's occupants more clearly, "It's just a bit tiring when a mother thinks that her son has finally developed a taste for literature only to discover that he's acquired a taste for something else entirely."
"Oh, I see." Deborah drawled, exhaling a silent scoff of laughter, "It's nice to see you've got your priorities nice and straightened out." Carolyn huffed at this, and rolled her eyes, but Deborah ignored this for the sake of turning back to Arthur, and meeting his gaze squarely, "Alright, listen close Arthur; I'm going to tell you exactly what you need to do."
oOoOoOo
It turned out, that as much as Deborah wanted to act, she also rather enjoyed being in charge of the camera; there was something quite empowering about being able to raise and drop the camera when she chose, and to capture whatever she wanted for future reference.
She wouldn't admit it, but Deborah was also reminded fleetingly of the way that children (herself included at one point) seemed to get a thrill from wielding 'the camera'; in truth, it was just jolly good fun to hold it up to her face and watch the crew in the tiny little screen.
After fitting Carolyn into a lifejacket and having her run through the script, Deborah had had a laugh at her expense, and it had been quickly decided that Arthur would perform the safety demonstration; that was fine by her, she didn't want to do that bit.
Now Carolyn was trying, and failing, to run through the welcome speech, and Deborah was managing to remain patient and instructive only because when Carolyn threw in the towel, she would be allowed to take her place.
Deborah had perched on Martin's desk to get the perfect angle (and to save her feet from the inevitable ache if she had been made to stand throughout the many, many retakes), and she let her legs swing as she held her wrist loosely, camera curled in her fingers as she tilted her head to the side in boredom.
"As owner and manager of MJN Air …" Carolyn repeated, pressing her hands together as she stood in the centre of the porta-cabin and looked down the camera like the monarchic villain of a soap opera.
She was cut off by the creaking crack of the door as it put up a fight; Carolyn glared over her shoulder as Martin strode in, humming a cheerful tune under his breath that he ended when his eyes fell upon the odd gathering.
"Hello." Martin called, raising his hand in a quick wave as he smiled brightly, straightening the lapels of his jacket as he entered; his pace slowed as he really absorbed what he was seeing.
Beaming through thinned lips, as a rush of unnecessary relief filled her pores, Deborah straightened from her slouched, and extended one eager arm towards Martin, waggling her fingers and silently nodding for him to join her as Carolyn continued.
"As owner and manager of MJN Air, my first priority is to ensure you have a comfortable and enjoyable flight." Carolyn reeled of tartly, pointedly ignoring what was going on around her.
As Martin came without question to her side, he met Deborah's outstretched hand with his own, affectionately tangling their fingers together, only releasing her when he was standing close enough that the back of her shoulder could have pressed against his chest had she leaned back; he didn't seem to notice at all, doing it all subconsciously, even as Deborah inwardly noted the loss of sensation.
"Is it?!" Martin inquired in muted disbelief, sending Deborah a sideways glance, and a small smirk; Deborah had been careful up until that point not to mention how out of character their entire script was, for the sake of being allowed to act later, but if Martin wished to entertain, then she could only smile and duck her head so that Carolyn didn't see, but he definitely could, "'Cos that hasn't really been coming across. What's going on?"
Deborah listened half-heartedly as Carolyn explained what was going on, to Martin's growing amusement; she did love it when he was nothing but confident, and his wicked sense of humour could shine brightly. She did however feel that it was necessary to point out why Arthur was a risky choice for the demo.
"Arthur does have a rather free-form approach to his art." Deborah remarked, rolling the camera between her hands and raising her eyebrows knowingly at Arthur, who true to form, was already expanding with what he probably thought was ingenuity.
"Ooh! We could do it like a disaster movie!" Arthur exclaimed, throwing his hands out into the air either side of him.
"… for instance." Deborah concluded, extending her palm to gesture towards him, making sure to purse her lips innocently when she looked towards Carolyn, who was shaking her head, the fingers of one hand pressed lightly above her eyes.
Martin chuckled softly, but raised his hand to lower hers, gently pushing Deborah's arm down at the elbow, bringing her back in line without a word; Deborah glanced over her shoulder to pout playfully, but he just smiled.
"Surely you should do that one, Carolyn." He suggested, his hinting a little more than unsubtle, as he made a mess of nodding pointedly, trying to seem relaxed by resting one hand on Deborah's shoulder; even so, Deborah rather liked it.
"No I should not." Carolyn retorted, huffing through her nose and aggressively lifting her hands to adjust her outfit, pulling and pushing her and there to make it as symmetrical as possible.
"That was the original plan." Deborah explained, turning to face Martin, until her legs brushed the top of his; she had his attention immediately, eyes on hers, and she couldn't quite tell whether it was that or the hilarity of her explanation that made her smile so salaciously, "In fact, we did a trial run this morning, but watching it back, Carolyn was worried she looked rather ridiculous."
"Oh, I'm sure you didn't." Martin glanced politely to Carolyn, but Deborah could hear as well as see the tugging at the corner of his lips and the crinkles either side of his eyes; it made her want to make him give up the restraint, to make him smile properly and appease the fluttering mess in her chest.
"Oh, she did – utterly ridiculous." Deborah continued, lowering her voice as if she were speaking just for him, leaning into the pull created automatically by the arm over her shoulders; he leaned in as well, lessening the gap between them, "I didn't say she wasn't right to be worried."
"Thank you, Deborah …" Carolyn sighed, but Deborah wasn't listening; a smile crept onto Martin's lips, and he tipped his head down and to the side, keeping his eyes on hers so that she could speak into his ear.
There was a particularly arresting moment when she was in a fully inflated yellow lifejacket, demonstrating how to use a whistle …" Deborah ploughed on, lowering her voice again and tracing the tips of her fingers over the v-shape below his collar, leaning up conspiratorially; this was magnificent fun.
At that Martin actually giggled, a low, rolling sound that made his face light up as he ducked even closer to counter the rise of his chest, and made Deborah light up with a sense of perfect success, as she wetted her lips. She would happily trade the world to hear him giggling like that on a daily basis.
"Thank you, Deborah." Carolyn said more firmly, but again, she was ignored.
"She looked like a musical grapefruit." Deborah murmured into Martin's ear, glancing sheepishly towards Carolyn, but grinning nonetheless, laughing with him, just managing to stop herself from lurching forwards and leaning on him as he was on her, as Martin giggled again, louder and more insistent, his whole face beaming with humour.
And she had done that; it was absolutely worth Carolyn's wrath.
"That will do!" Carolyn barked furiously; Deborah finally leaned back and raised an eyebrow at the woman, whose hands were bunched at her sides as her face seemed prepared to snarl at any moment.
"Carolyn, I really feel I ought to do the welcome message." Martin appeased, calming himself efficiently and clearing his throat, patting down the wrinkles in his uniform, and gesturing widely towards himself, "I mean, after all, I am the captain. People want to hear from the captain. They find it reassuring."
"Martin, when has anyone ever found you reassuring?" Carolyn demanded, rolling her eyes and folding her arms across her chest in a way that only made her seem more intimidating than she already was.
"That's not fair!" Martin retorted, and his good mood was gone just like that, his face scrunched into his defensive, proud default; Deborah frowned at Carolyn but said nothing, wrapping her arms loosely around her chest as the pleasant weight of Martins' arm disappeared from around her shoulders.
"Look, I'm sorry, but this needs to be calm, relaxed and authoritative – none of which, I'm afraid, are qualities for which you are famous." Carolyn tried a different angle, softening her harsh features; it fooled no one.
"Mind you, they're terribly hard qualities to find." Deborah pointed out; she had no intention of letting Martin do the welcome speech, as she and only she possessed those required attributes, but she found that she couldn't not defend him. It wasn't Martin's fault that he was incompetent when it came to looking competent.
"I am calm!" Martin insisted in a squawk that was anything but calm, flattening his hands in the air around him as if he were balancing on an imaginary skateboard, "I'm very, very calm – and authoritative, and-and, er, the other one." His expression crumbled, and his cheeks reddened with exertion as he looked imploringly down at Deborah, "What was the other one? I can do that as well, whatever it was."
"Relaxed?" Deborah offered lightly, blinking up at Martin and smiling thinly; he wouldn't appreciate a massive show of affection when he was like this, and it wouldn't be normal for Deborah to be anything other than vastly entertained (which she was).
"Yes! I'm very relaxed!" Martin cried, practically sagging with relief, although he remained jittery, defending his own honour; as Deborah's watched his hands flitter from his epaulets, to his lapels, to anywhere that they didn't need to be, she couldn't help but want to pat him on the head until he just went to sleep, like a badly behaved cat.
"All right. Give it your best shot." Carolyn instructed indifferently, flinging a hand towards Deborah, as Martin froze and looked between them, startled into calm by confusion; Deborah obediently shifted back across the desk so that she could raise the camera to head height and point it at Martin's paling cheeks.
"Er, what, now?" Martin stuttered, coming over bashful all of a sudden; this, Deborah thought, was exactly why she would end up doing the welcome message.
"Practice run. Fade up on Captain Martin Crieff at the controls …" Carolyn announced, and Deborah couldn't help but smirk at the little whimper that Martin gaze as she held the camera more firmly and raised her other hand in an 'action' motion, "He turns to the camera engagingly and says …"
"I'm not ready!" Martin spluttered, closing his eyes tightly as if that might protect him from panicking; Deborah sighed fondly, and lowered the camera into her lap.
"And blackout!" Carolyn remarked cheerfully, clapping her hands together as if to move on; but Martin wasn't having any of that. If there was one thing that he could be relied upon to be, it was a stubborn bastard; Deborah wouldn't have liked him so much if he wasn't.
"What? No!" Martin groaned, opening his eyes again and glaring at Carolyn in distress as she continued to purse her lips wryly and shake her head.
"Thank you, Martin. We'll let you know." She said airily, waving her hand through the air and nodding pointedly at Deborah, who made no move to do whatever it was Carolyn was expecting; Martin wouldn't forgive her if she did.
"No-no-no, wait-wait-wait! Okay." Martin cleared his throat and took a deep breath, steadying himself, "I'm ready now."
"Okay. Go." Carolyn, pointed at Deborah, who lifted the camera back up to head height, and began filming; there was no reason not to, and she had a feeling that she might like to look back at this moment in years to come.
"Hello. Welcome to MJN Air." Martin said calmly, bringing his hands together at his front as he turned to look engagingly at Deborah; unfortunately, the moment that his eyes fell to the camera lens, his calmness began to disintegrate, "M-m-my name is Captain Martin Crieff, though that doesn't matter – it's all very informal here. Just call me Martin …well, in the context of this video, anyway."
At that point, as Martin wavered between anxious and demanding, Deborah lowered the camera back into her lap and bit back a smile as she watched him splutter himself into a corner; if it hadn't been for the rush of affection somewhere near her chest, she supposed that she might have found it tease worthy, but as it was, it was simply rather funny.
"If you actually see me in person, it's probably best you do call me Captain Crieff, or just Captain. It's just protocol, I'm afraid, um, but if it was up to me you could call me … 'Marty'." Martin remarked brightly; his eyebrows pinched in the middle as Deborah coughed into the end of a laugh, and had to lift her free hand to cover her mouth, "No, no, actually, no, no, let's not confuse things: definitely don't ever call me 'Marty'. Right, so, to recap: hello. I am Captain Martin Captain … Captain Crieff, Crieff, I mean! Can we start again?"
"You old perfectionist, you." Deborah gushed, her smile reaching into her cheeks and plucking up a glow as she laughed, batting a hand gently through the air at him; Martin's lips trembled into a fleeting smile as he met her gaze, but it disappeared when Carolyn interjected.
And as much as she adored Martin on camera, and she really, really did, Deborah knew that he wouldn't get any better. Although, to be fair, neither Carolyn nor Arthur would either, and when asked, Deborah flatly refused on the basis that she was cripplingly shy.
So all that was left was to watch and wait, and to try and get Martin to do some more acting whilst absolutely not convincing him that starring in the video was a good idea. Sometimes, Deborah mused, she wanted far too much.
oOoOoOo
Later that afternoon, Deborah had found Martin in the cabin, slouched in the window seat of Row A, practicing his name over and over again; of course, she had teased and drawled upon entrance, but there was no denying that she had stood at the door watching for far longer than was necessary, soaking it in with a small smile on her lips.
While Arthur rambled on to himself (he was very indignant about not being allowed the proper set and acting tools, almost as indignant as Martin was about not being allowed to act at all) and wandered up and down the aisle, Deborah had dropped down into the seat beside Martin's to listen to his grievances.
"What's a captain's name?" she asked, genuinely having trouble seeing Martin's logic, as was often the case; she folded one leg over the other and shifted so that she was turned more towards him, noting inwardly when he did the same, slumped enough that their heads were at the same height.
"Well, yours, for instance – big surprise!" Martin replied drearily, flinging a hand to his side of gesture lazily towards her; he put on a deep, cheerful voice, "This is Captain Deborah Richardson." Then he switched back to his normal, croakier voice, which Deborah rather preferred, even though Martin's eyebrows were dancing about his hairline as if he had made some point, "You see, it sounds much better.
"Hold on, hold on, I've heard that somewhere before." Deborah interjected, raising her own hand to bat his away gently, and drawing herself up with a smirk; she put on the same ridiculous voice that he had, "Cashier number six please."
Martin's did crack a smile, as Deborah grinned at her success, but it was marred by exasperation as he ran a hand over his face and rolled his eyes up to meet hers, pouting pitiably; she supposed that that was a sign of trust, so not a complete failure.
"It does sound rather good though." She noted, allowing herself to relax into the shoddy seat while Martin sighed dully and scrunched up his nose.
"Captain der-der-DER-der-der." Martin drawled, pinching his face up and glaring into the distance in concentration, ignoring the eyebrow that was quirked decisively at him, "That's what you need – not Captain der-der-DER…ff."
"What about Marty?" Deborah suggested quietly, grinning when Martin scoffed and looked away in false agony, frowning pointedly at the small round window; he truly was wonderful when being teased.
"No, don't ever, ever call me Marty – Marty's a horrible name!" Martin insisted, turning back to glare heatedly at her, hunching over to place his hands over her wrists as if this were the most important thing he had ever told her, "I hate it – it's not a good nickname, like…like…Debbie, that's a decent one!"
"Well I would hope so, I was Debbie for many years." Deborah remarked, chuckling softly at the shift from desperation to inquisition that washed through Martin's eyes, making his lips pout; she decided not to withhold the rest of her statement, just because she loved how he leaned in curiously, "I was Debbie as a child, then at school, then in medical school, even Harry used it. I only dropped it when I started flying so that-"
Deborah cut herself off and pursed her lips, breaking Martin's gaze and staring sheepishly at the material on his knee.
"So that what?" Martin pushed suspiciously, and when she looked back to him, he was smirking slightly; what the hell.
"So that I had a more professional sounding name." Deborah sighed, gritting her teeth and wetting her lips as Martin's face split into something akin to joy, and he chuckled, a small sound that grew louder until it hit the air; once again, that was one more thing that he could tease her with. Fantastic.
"Oh! Oh, that is perfect!" Martin exclaimed on a breath, giving her wrists a little squeeze, "You can never tease me for this, because you were exactly the same."
Deborah simply rolled her eyes and waited for him to continue gloating. But Martin's expression had softened, and he was running his eyes over her face; he even reached up to brush a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, dragging his bottom lips through his teeth; Deborah felt awfully like she was being inspected, and it did strange things to her abdomen, especially now that she knew just what he saw when he looked at her.
"Debbie…" Martin let the word roll off of his tongue, as if testing it, then he shook his head, ignoring the way that her eyes narrowed, "No…I can't think of you as anything other than a Deborah."
"Well good." Deborah replied wryly, inhaling sharply to deter the nerves that were all of a sudden present throughout her pores; there was something almost touching about his declaration, "Because I am one."
oOoOoOo
It had taken a bit of ribbing, and a lot of flattery and batting of eyelashes, but Deborah had managed to convince Martin to let her see the video that he had prepared for Carolyn; of course, his willingness to concede may have had something to do with how distracted he was by being furious about Martin Davenport the fake pilot, but Deborah liked to think otherwise.
The two of them had taken refuge in the flight-deck, Martin hunkered down in his seat, feet threatening to rest petulantly on the control panel and only held back by his professionalism as he held one hand curled in front of his lips to hide the antsy frown, and Deborah with his phone held in both hands, leaning down over it to hear the words as she replayed the video again.
"Hi, guys. My name's Martin Crieff, the captain, and I'm the guy in charge of flying you today. On behalf of the rest of the guys on my team and the guys back on the ground, let me give you guys one hell of a big MJN welcome - "
"Oh, darling, this is beautiful!" Deborah drawled, beaming at the tiny Martin on the screen, when turning to glance at the real Martin through the hair that fell around her face only earned a distracted wave of Martin's hand as the bridge of his nose crinkled in irritation, "You definitely have to keep this."
"Hey, I know, guys – big yawn, eh? But you know what? It might just save your life. A-a-although, of course, an air accident is statistically - "
"Hmmm, whatever…" Martin muttered, nodding briefly, though Deborah suspected that he didn't know what he had just agreed to; as Deborah sat back to lean against the back of her chair, his head turned abruptly, and he demanded, "How does she do it? How does Carolyn manage to search for one day and find a better pilot than me?"
Deborah sighed, and reached across to place the phone on the console, turning in her seat so that she could address Martin properly, making sure to hold his gaze; as fond as his indignant rambling made her, after an hour of it, Deborah was having to breathe away the adjoining exasperation.
"Martin, he's not a pilot." Deborah said sternly, "You are a pilot."
Martin scoffed and carried on in the way that only people talking a different conversation than their partner can achieve.
"I bet if he spent the day on GERTI no one would mistake him for the First Officer," Martin sneered frantically; he was still looking out of the front window, rapping his fingers distractedly around the ends of the arms of his seat, "They'd have no problem recognising Captain Davenport."
"Martin, stop; I want you to listen very carefully because I'm not going to say it again." Deborah instructed, placing her hands imploringly on the arm nearest to her and glaring patiently into his eyes; that, at least, was enough to make him pause, and actually meet her gaze, though he pouted slightly, "You may think that he looks and sounds like a pilot, but the truth of the matter is, he isn't one. You however, are a pilot, and a decent one at that, even though you don't think you look and sound like one."
"But he - " Martin started, eyes widening, but Deborah shook her head and cut him off.
"No buts – if being a pilot requires certain attributes that you don't seem to think you have, then surely you've exceeded expectations, hmm?" Deborah suggested, relishing a swell of relief as Martin seemed to actually process that information for a moment, his eyes dropping to thoughtfully trace where her hands lay on his arm, "And besides, I think you look rather dashing in your uniform."
"Really?" Martin inquired, sounding pleasantly surprised; his cheeks flushed red, and he shuffled back in his seat, straightening his back and dragging his bottom lip through his teeth.
"Oh yes, far more interesting to look at than those cardboard cut-out Captains that you seem to aspire to." Deborah elaborated, allowing herself to smile warmly now that it seemed his sulk was well and truly tackled.
Then the flight deck door swung open, and Arthur filled the gap.
"Hi, chaps!" Arthur greeted them, and then slowed in his cheer as he took in their arrangement, and the sudden shift back into petulance that Martin's face performed, "Er, Mum says are you ready for the rehearsal?"
"No." Martin replied sulkily, pulling gently away from Deborah as she retracted her hands, and shoving his arms around his chest, appearing the model grouch.
"Yes." Deborah amended, quirking her eyebrows demonstratively at Arthur over the back of her seat, who 'oh'-ed in understanding, and stepped fully into the flight-deck, poking his head back into the Galley to call out to Carolyn and Martin Davenport.
"How tall do you think he is?" Martin demanded, making Deborah startled as she settled back into her seat; she rolled her eyes and sighed, taking care to simply rest the side of her head against her seat as she swept her gaze over him; she thought that he could have been compared to Gollum in that moment, as he peered suspiciously around the edge of his seat towards the back of the flight-deck.
"Oh, Martin, I have no idea!" Deborah replied exhaustedly, focusing on trying not to frown or grimace at him; he wouldn't appreciate that, "Six one, six two?"
"Yeah, perfect height – taller than most people but not weird tall." Martin muttered, scrunching up his face in wistful distaste; the worst part was that he genuinely thought that Deborah wanted to listen and comfort him on such a ridiculous matter.
"You've really got to let this go, you know." Deborah retorted vehemently, losing her cool for just a moment for the sake of broadcasting her desperate exasperation, stretching her palms out in the air between them as one might when tackling a badly behaved tiger.
But Martin didn't let it go; the moment that Martin Davenport entered the flight-deck on Carolyn's heels he became the unlucky victim of Martin's creepy stalker quiz; giving up the will to talk him down, Deborah sat back and listened dejectedly. It almost reached the point where she was affectionately proud of just how ridiculously petulant and proud Martin could make himself seem; it took a certain amount of skill.
In the end, she decided to remove herself from the situation and allow it to disintegrate by itself; she would come back when she was allowed to star, and not a moment before.
"You can take my seat, Martin." Deborah told Martin Davenport, smiling politely as his befuddled set of his jaw released, his shoulders sagged dramatically, carried on an exhale.
"What? No!" Carolyn exclaimed, before Deborah had even risen from her seat; Deborah carried on slipping from the front of the flight-deck, even as Martin Davenport froze and looked desperately between them, "No, you stay where you are, Deborah."
"No, I don't think so." Deborah replied dryly, shaking her head and pursing her lips in a facsimile of apologetic grace as she sidled up beside Carolyn, "I am – as I believe I've mentioned before – terribly shy."
"Oh, don't be so childish." Carolyn spat, face blanching with barely contained irritation as she glared agitatedly at her.
"I'm not being childish," Deborah insisted petulantly, folding her arms roughly over her chest and standing her ground, pouting her lips without paying much heed, "but if I can't go to the Grand Prix, I'm not being in the film!"
oOoOoOo
Deborah was in the film; if she could take anything good from the remainder of the day, it was that she was most assuredly the star of the film. Far more than she had ever really wanted to be. And to make matters worse, Herc was there to bask in her humiliation.
The five of them gathered in the cabin to watch the first edit on the small passenger television that was practically stapled to the centre of the ceiling; while Arthur fiddled up front with the dials on the device, Carolyn had decided to sit beside Herc in Row B, while Deborah and Martin reclaimed their spots across the aisle in Row A.
Deborah wanted to fold in on herself and disappear into some sort of pocket universe, or simply fall inside her own ribcage if that were easier; instead, she conceded to simply pulling her knees up to rest loosely by her chest and leaning into Martin's side where he slouched contently at her side, already smiling in anticipation.
If she didn't like that smile so much, she might have considered punching it from his lips; Martin wasn't going to let her forget this until they day that they both died, as recompense for the video that she had taken the time to text to her own phone when he had first begun teasing her only an hour beforehand.
"All right. Everybody ready?" Carolyn asked, as Arthur turned back to the group and looked to his mother for confirmation; when met with no reply, Carolyn announced with a flourish of her wrist and a shark-like grin, "I hereby present MJN Air's first – and, please God, last – major motion picture. Arthur, press 'Play'."
"Okay! Action!" Arthur declared, and then hastily scrambled down the aisle to drop into the row behind Deborah and Martin, leaning over the top to get a better view.
As the twinkly music that Carolyn had found for free on the internet began to play, and the screen panned over the control panel, Deborah kept her eyes down, pouting in a deliberate show of misery as her tiny double talked salaciously into the camera.
"And who better to take us through it than …" Carolyn's tinny voice came through the speakers, and Deborah groaned before the next words were even spoken.
"Hallo. I'm your steward, Debbie."
Carolyn, Martin, and Arthur cheered enthusiastically, and Deborah inwardly cursed each one of them, scowling up at Martin as his face lit up and he smirked widely down at her.
"Oh, God." Deborah groaned, and with that she turned and buried her face in Martin's shoulder, lifting her arm to cover what was left of her face while the tiny Deborah nattered on disdainfully; Martin automatically retracted his arm so that he could sling it around her waist, squeezing playfully as he chuckled, making his chest rumble underneath her elbow.
"You definitely have our full attention, I promise you that!" Martin giggled, sounding happier than he had in a very long time; Deborah turned her head just enough that she could peek through her fingers at him, just as he ducked his head down to beam at her, squeezing again, his thumb tracing little circles on her waist.
"You look great in my uniform, Deborah!" Arthur congratulated from behind her, though Deborah didn't bother to acknowledge him, burrowing her face back into Martin's shoulder to hide her face from the shame, "Even the hat!"
"Especially the hat!" Martin exclaimed, carried by another wave of giggles as he ducked his head down again to tell her into her ear; she couldn't be sure, but she thought that he might have rested his cheek briefly atop her hair as he turned back to the television.
The jovial teasing continued, and Deborah tried to quash her murderous turned suicidal thoughts by remarking inwardly that the crew had never been this cheerful together, and that had to be a good thing; if only it didn't take a Deborah sized punching bag to create such unity, she thought as she relaxed into Martin's comfortable hold, turning her head so that her cheek rested on his shoulder and she could actually see Carolyn as she mocked her.
"What's that fruit I'm thinking of" Carolyn asked the group, flapping her hand in the air as she tried to grasp at the right word; wish another surge of hateful resignation, Deborah supposed that she had walked straight into that one "– like a grapefruit, but even sillier and more yellow?!
"A melon!" Martin blurted, almost incoherent with laughter; Deborah pinched his chest in retaliation, scowling up at him, but Martin only responded with another squeeze that was far too little like a companionable tug, and far too much like a cuddle to be acceptable with the rest of the crew there.
Then again, Deborah mused as the rest of them dissolved into giggles, Herc eyeing them sideways, Martin was the king of enforced professionalism, so it couldn't be conjuring up the same feelings in him as it was her.
"Beautifully done, don't you agree, Herc?" Carolyn declared, turning to smile wickedly at him; Deborah had known that she was just showing off.
"Oh, absolutely. Couldn't have done it better myself" Herc drawled, hooking his hands together over his lap as he raised an eyebrow pointedly as Deborah from across the flight-deck; the smarmy bastard, "– and under no circumstances would have tried."
"Yes, can we turn it off now?" Deborah snapped irritably, turning back to sit the right way in her seat, but not moving to allow Martin to take his arm back; in her defence, he made no move to uncurl his embrace.
"No, certainly not." Carolyn retorted, nodding towards the screen, where tiny Deborah was scrabbling agitatedly with the fiddly toggles on the life jacket, in a way that no passenger would feel safe watching, "This is the best bit."
"There is also a light, and a whistle for attracting attention."
"Debbie, I don't understand. How does the whistle work?" Carolyn's tinny and stilted voice seemed to be mocking her even from the television.
As he counterpart blew the whistle, looking like she could all upon the dogs of hell and have them rip the spleens from whoever needed telling how to blow a whistle, Deborah groaned again, and dropped her head into her hands, folding once more into Martin's side to escape from the momentous cheer that the rest of the crew released, exulting in their sadistic joy, even as Martin jostled her playfully.
Deborah decided then that they were all going to suffer in the next few days.
Hope you liked it - it was a lot of fun to write after the angsting mess that was the end of the last one