Hello and thankyou for reading and reviewing, I'm glad the last chapter went down so well. Here's the next one.

Interlude 11

Lying in a bed in a hotel near the airport in Ohio, Deborah curled onto her side beneath the covers, and looked through the pale light of morning at the room's other twin bed; Martin was snoring faintly, and she knew that she should try to catch another hour or two of sleep before he was up with the sun, but couldn't manage it.

She had plans for the day that she hadn't mentioned to him, but Deborah knew that he would love it; that in itself was nerve-wracking. It had been two weeks since she and Martin had decided to have a go at stepping beyond friendship and into the murkier waters of romantic relationships, but they had yet to go on anything resembling a date…Deborah was going to rectify that.

It wasn't that they had been avoiding each other, quite the contrary; they had slipped quite easily into a pattern of small pecks on the cheek and the ability to say how they were feeling, and had spent just as much time in each other's company as they had before. The only difference was that there was now a peripheral awareness of what they were doing underlying every conversation.

That first night, when the other versions of them were packed off home, and Deborah had invited Martin back to hers, they really had just cuddled up on the sofa; so much had happened, and so many nerves were frayed, that anything else would have been ridiculous.

They hadn't talked at first, but neither of them had had the energy. Whilst Deborah had gone about making coffee for the two of them, and finding her regular soap opera on the television, for something to distract them more than actual interest, Martin had slumped into the corner of her sofa, hands rubbing over his face as the exhaustion washed over him.

Then when Deborah had come to sit beside him, that slowly shifted into a comfortable embrace, with Martin kicking his legs up onto the sofa while she slid across to settle in front of him, her back against his chest, slouched down enough that he could rest his chin on her shoulder, his arms winding around her waist like a drowning man gripping a life raft as her own arms rested atop them, fingers curling into his sleeves.

It had been odd at first, but after a while Martin relaxed into her, and Deborah was more content than she had been in…well, years; Martin would ask in murmurs what was happening, the intricate plots of the soap opera indecipherable for anyone who might be new to the programme, and the two of them had fun mocking the ridiculousness of it all as Deborah explained that 'he' was 'her' brother, who had arrived in secret because their mother had put him up for adoption, and now they were both on trial for the murder of someone who had been drugged by their son for sleeping with their employer's daughter, who happened to be the cousin connecting the whole scheme.

They had barely even kissed. There had been one moment, when Deborah had snuggled backwards a fraction, enjoying the solid weight of Martin curled around her, and she had tipped her head back to run her eyes over his face, her nose brushed against his neck as she turned. Martin had hummed under his breath and tilted his chin downwards, blushing faintly, and placed his lips gently against hers, waiting for her to reach one arm around his and brush her fingers across his cheek before adding any pressure, pulling away with a contented sigh.

It had been unusual, but not awkward, or uncomfortable; it just existed, and Deborah had happily settled against him to continue giving the television screen only a fraction of her attention, focused almost entirely upon how wonderful it felt being allowed to tuck into Martin, and have him hold her back with a warm glow coating his face.

There had been no time to talk about what they were actually doing, as they had fallen asleep there, neither of them willing to move or disturb the fragile balance between them; it wasn't until early the next morning, when Deborah awoke cocooned in Martin's arms, head laid against the crook between his neck and shoulder, legs hooked over his, the both of them threatening to roll from the sofa, that the daunting weight of negotiations even dared to peek its nose into the lightness in her head.

The moths in Deborah's chest pirouetted and threatened to flutter up her throat and escape when she had nudged him gently, and Martin had groaned and grumbled into alertness, his eyebrows rising in surprise when he looked down his nose at their position. Then he had blushed, and a tentative little smile had lifted the corners of his lips as he dragged the bottom one through his teeth, his hands slipping more securely around her back to counter the jolt that she had received when he had tried to sit up.

That had been all it took to make a flush of warmth rush through Deborah's pores and assure her that everything was alright, and nothing of the previous few days could be regretted; so she had murmured that they needed to talk things through, Martin had agreed, and after a few minutes wandering aimlessly around, rifling through the kitchen for tea, and settling onto the sofa, sitting this time and facing each other, it had been time to work out exactly what they were doing.

"Everything I said before, that still counts." Martin insisted the moment that Deborah turned to face him, her hands rested in her lap; he was turned towards her, his hands clasped anxiously on his knees, eyes strained as they bored into her face with a sort of jittery determination, "I absolutely meant everything I said about how I feel, and nothing's changed."

"Good…" Deborah replied faintly, unable to stop herself from committing to a wavering smile of wonderment before she realised how she must have sounded, "I mean, that's good, because I feel the same. You know I'm attracted to you, and I wasn't lying when I said I return your feelings. I think - "

"I think what we mentioned before – you know, when we were, well, I think that was a good idea," Martin spluttered, his nerves getting the most of him as he grasped at his knees and gnawed at his lips, becoming more frantic, "I want that – I- I I mean if you - "

Taking a deep breath, Deborah raised her hands between them and Martin fell silent, clamming up and watching her movements as if his life depended on it; there were so many ways that this could have gone, and Deborah could only do her best to formulate the best result, taking a risk. Shuffling sideways across the sofa, Deborah slipped closer to Martin, until their knees collided softly in the centre.

"Martin, I think that now everything is out in the open, the best thing that we can do now is to wipe everything else from the table, and just say what we want." Deborah suggested calmly, wetting her lips as she struggled not to stare at the buttons on his shirt instead of his face, "No fussing, or teasing…it's become very clear that…things are happening between us, and perhaps the most reasonable thing to do is to be completely honest."

"I want you." Martin answered immediately, and Deborah had to swallow hard, thrown once more off guard by the rawness of it; then he sniffled and ducked his head, before continuing more shakily, "I mean, I want to be with you, in a-a-a relationship, not as friends, but as, as, well, boyfriends and girlfriends sounds silly, but as partners, in the sense that-"

"Me too." Deborah interrupted, nodding minutely to compound her statement; once again, Martin fell silent, and his whole posture seemed to take on an airier weight, his shoulders rising as his eyes widened, "I would like to try for a relationship with you. But Martin, it's not as simple as just saying that." She sighed, and blinked heavily, glancing away from him, "We're friends, the best of friends, and although that means we know each other inside out, it also means that if we start something, we need to relearn our relationship from a whole new angle."

"You mean with dates and romance?" Martin verified, leaning forwards and clasping his hands together, forehead furrowing as if he were studying for an important exam, "Because I want to do all of that."

"So do I." Deborah agreed, taking pains to meet his gaze; there were tiny claws in her guts that whispered how carefully she needed to tread, "But you have to understand where I'm coming from. There are huge aspects of our friendship that will transfer across into a romantic relationship perfectly…but there are other aspects that we would need to relearn, like boundaries, and what we are and aren't allowed to do with each other, what we talk about…"

"I understand that, I really do." Martin insisted, now trying to smile convincingly, looking across at her with a decisive glint in his eyes that wouldn't be swayed, "I want to do dates and the romance, and I'm willing to relearn how we work, because…because I love you, and I want to have a go adding that extra element to us…like this…" confidently, but slowly, Martin's hand crossed the small space between them, and he curled his fingers through Deborah's, smiling tentatively, making her stomach lurch pleasantly, "I-I love our friendship, I do…but I'd also quite like if we added more this sort of thing."

He gave her fingers a little squeeze, and Deborah couldn't help but return the favour, gripping his hand in hers and intertwining their fingers completely; ducking her head down so that a few strands of hair fell over her face, she nodded, and almost didn't look up to see the sharp intake of breath, or the thrilled flush that overtook Martin's face as he leant into the movement, seemingly unable to stay too far away.

Deborah wanted this so, so much…but there was still a little niggle of doubt at the back of her mind, infecting the rest of her organs.

"Martin, what if we don't work like that." Deborah spoke quickly, staring at their joined hands, almost able to feel the atmosphere become precarious; Martin began to speak, as if to contradict her, but she cut him off, inhaling sharply and snapping her eyes upwards to lock onto his, "Hear me out…our whole relationship is built on our bickering, and most of the time it's fun, and it's why we're friends at all, but every now and then it builds and builds, and no matter how we feel about each other, it ends in a huge argument." she swallowed and waited for a response, but none came, so she pushed on, "What if, even when padded out with feelings, we still argue like that, and we find out we just don't function as a couple."

Martin didn't answer straight away, but he blinked hard, the pressure on her hand increasing slightly as he stared thoughtfully into thin air; Deborah felt a moment of trepidation before he finally opened his mouth.

"Deborah, I don't want to start something with you thinking about how it might end…because ideally, I, I'd like us to work…indefinitely…once we're there, I don't want to lose it." He explained, but regardless, his jaw set, and Martin met her gaze determinedly, trying to smile encouragingly, but falling short of the mark, "But you're right…we fight, we might not work as a couple. However, we do work as friends, even with the fighting, and so there's no reason we can't try. We could try and be romantic, and relearn how to be around each other, and if it works, then fantastic, I'd love that." Martin smiled properly that time, shrugging helplessly, and Deborah couldn't help but feel her spirits lifted by the sight, even as he carried on, "and if it doesn't work, then never mind, we're still friends."

"So what you're saying…" Deborah replied cautiously, letting the words roll over her tongue as she contemplated the possibilities that they incited, shifting her free hand to rest over their joined ones, her fingers trailing over Martin's knuckles, "is that if we work as a romantic pairing, then we could keep it going long term, but that if we don't, then no harm done, because we'll always have our friendship to fall back on?"

"Yes, exactly!" Martin exclaimed, sounding far too pleased with himself, though Deborah couldn't find it in herself to care, "But the idea is not to ruin it, so we won't ever have to fall back on just being friends."

"Okay." Answered, unable to do much more that cherish the flood of happiness that washed through her senses, and meet Martin's hopeful expression with one of her own.

So she bridged the gap between them and pressed a kiss to his lips, their hands still wound together between them, Martin's free hand rising immediately to card through her hair; then another kiss, and another, each short but sweet, as Martin began to chuckle, a low sound that rippled through his chest.

They didn't go any further than that, and hadn't since, and they hadn't told Carolyn or Arthur what they planned to do; Martin was worried that they might get called out for unprofessional behaviour, so ensured that the closest they got to each other at work were small pecks when no one was looking, too thrilled to keep at a truly professional distance, and Deborah too afraid of what might happen if either of them knew, though she was aware that Arthur was probably waiting for one of them to announce their engagement any day now.

Which was why when Martin's phone jangled, and he began to grumble and roll onto his back, Deborah was out of bed in a flash, treading lightly to crouch beside his bed, admiring his sleep addled bewilderment in the rays of Ohio sun that crept through the gaps in the ratty blinds.

"What are you doing up?" Martin yawned, bringing a curled hand to thump uselessly against his mouth, even as he smooshed the side of his face into his pillow to face Deborah, eyes flitting lazily across her features as his lips danced into an unconscious smile at the sight of her.

"I'm up, dear Captain, because I have big plans for today." Deborah announced fondly; committing the sight of his ginger hair ruffled and sticking up at odd angles against his pillow, she stroked the backs of her fingers over his forehead, watching as he smiled and snuffled at the motion, lifting his other hand to connect with hers, but missing, "I'm taking you on a date."

"What?" Martin jolted upwards, falling back onto the bed before he could hoist himself into a sleepy sitting position, even as Deborah rose to her feet and wandered away to rifle through her case for a suitable outfit for the day, "Wait – surely I should do that, I'm the-"

"That might be true if we lived in the eighteen sixties, but luckily it's the twenty first century and we women can sweep our men off their feet if we want." Deborah retorted, smirking at Martin from across the room, "Don't you want to know where I'm taking you? I chose it on the basis that you'd be thrilled."

"Oh?" Martin asked, still groggily squinting about the room, but making an effort to hoist himself up and round to face her, "Well, um, that's…good of you. What have you got planned?"

Deborah grinned, and abandoned her clothes for the sake of stepping swiftly back to the side of his bed and taking his hands in hers, inhaling for dramatic effect as Martin's eyebrows rose expectantly.

"Martin Crieff," she declared proudly, "Today, as we don't have to fly back home until tomorrow, you are accompanying me to the National Museum of the US Air Force, in Dayton."

oOoOoOo

To say that Martin was thrilled would have been an understatement; to say that he treated even the idea of the date as if it were the second coming of Christ, would have been spot on. Deborah had nearly toppled backwards under the force of Martin slamming into her, his hands gasping at her cheeks as he kissed every inch of her face that he could, lingering determinedly on her lips, murmuring something that she couldn't quite understand.

When they made their way down to the hotel's shoddy restaurant, Martin had practically skipped down the stairs, a wide grin on his face that didn't even fade when they found Carolyn and Arthur sat at a table right in the centre.

"Martin, you look like you're about to burst into a thousand shiny sprinkles." Carolyn announced, glancing up from her phone and nodding in a welcoming gesture; Deborah obediently took the seat opposite Arthur, and Martin slipped in beside her, only removing the hand from the back of her seat at the last moment, "Should I assume that Deborah's the only font of rational conversation today, or are you too far gone to answer even that?"

"Not at all Carolyn, not at all." Martin chirped cheerfully, grinning ear to ear, his cheeks a charming shade of red that didn't seem to be budging as he took the menu from the table and began rifling through it, "I'm just in a good mood. We're going to the air museum today."

He sounded far too much like a twelve year old in that moment for anyone to suspect that it might have been a date, but Deborah couldn't help sighing and batting her eyelashes at him, running her gaze across his face and relishing the fact that she had done that.

"Oh, wow, that's brilliant." Arthur exclaimed, glancing up from his breakfast and looking between Martin and Deborah, "I'd love to go there, but I'm going shopping to see if I can find a present for Lily."

"Hm, yes, that sounds like a plan." Deborah replied, as Carolyn continued to interrogate Martin with a picture of incredulity scrawled across her face, "But if this last try doesn't work, you might have to just give her up as a lost cause."

Arthur hummed in agreement, and his smile dropped imperceptibly, but he otherwise turned back to his food, ducking from the conversation; this was well timed, as Deborah pricked her ears just in time to hear the end of Martin and Carolyn's conversation.

"And Deborah's going with you?" Carolyn inquired, raising an eyebrow and turning to smirk at her First Officer, "Deborah, I never knew you were so altruistic. What else have you been hiding from me?"

"Oh, nothing but a deep and harrowing love of aviation." Deborah drawled, catching out of the corner of her eye the affectionate and almost doting gaze that Martin was laying upon her; she smirked, and continued in good humours, "It's my secret sorrow; in truth, Martin hates planes, he's simply covering for my own damned affliction."

"That's what friends are for." Martin chimed in, nudging her subtly with his elbow; she chuckled, and turned briefly back to him.

"Why of course." Deborah replied, quirking her eyebrows demonstratively, taking a small thrill from the giggled exhale that escaped his lips as he brought the menu back up to his face.

If Carolyn thought that was at all odd, she said nothing, but Deborah definitely caught her peering bemusedly between the two of them before she began complaining about the ridiculous demands of their client, who wanted taking back to England the next day.

oOoOoOo

Taking Martin to the aircraft museum was, in her opinion, one of the best things Deborah had ever done; as far as dates went, it was the best she had ever been on, purely because of how happy Martin was. It was true that she was enjoying herself as well, but she had never seen Martin so charged up with joy; the sight was wonderful, and made her heart skip little beats in her chest.

The museum was as close to the Elysian fields as Martin would ever get, containing more planes than either of them had ever seen in one place. The exhibit charted the history of aviation, with a warehouse dedicated to each era, from the early beginnings by the two Wright brothers, through both world wars, right the way to modern aircraft and spy planes that had starred in movies, and some that had starred in space.

Martin dragged her through each exhibit at a slow yet eager pace, hand intertwined with hers as he stopped to describe each aircraft in punishing detail, as if spurred on by the interest that she showed; and there was a lot to describe, as planes not only laid a pathway through the museum, but were suspended from the ceiling as if in majestic flight, like a cloud of midges filling the air.

In short, Martin was in his element, and every now and then Deborah would snap a picture on her phone, catching in elation for memory's sake; at one point he noticed her doing it, and insisted that she couldn't just take pictures of him. So another poor tourist was roped into taking a picture of the two of them, Martin's arm around Deborah's waist, grinning wickedly as he forced her to smile by pinching the opposite side of her waist; the moment that her phone was returned, Deborah slipped from his grasp so that he couldn't make the most of her newly discovered ticklishness.

By the time they had wasted half the day, Deborah managed to convince Martin to stop in the little café in the centre of the museum and at least consume a sandwich and a cup of coffee; even then, as they sat on opposite sides of a small table, he was so cheerful he couldn't stop talking.

"Deborah, have I ever told you that you're the most amazing person in the whole world?" Martin inquired as he lifted his mug to his mouth, grin still firmly fixed on his lips, his eyes dancing over her face, "Because, I don't want to inflate your ego too much, but you really are the greatest, most perfect person that has ever lived."

"I think that may be the planes talking, Martin." Deborah drawled, fighting the sardonic rush of affection that fluttered through her chest, as she leaned back in her seat and ran her nails around the edge of her drink.

"Yes, but you brought me to the planes." Martin replied, gesturing knowledgably and winking; Deborah smiled and nodded, but said no more, taking the compliment for what it was and deciding not to look too hard at it.

There was a moment of peace, filled only by the clatter of the other customers around them, and Deborah took advantage of it to check her phone for messages; of course, no one had tried to reach her, but it never hurt to check just in case Carolyn had called in desperate need of assistance.

"Deborah…" Martin asked, and Deborah glanced up to find that he was biting his bottom lip sheepishly as he addressed her, burling his hands around the mug that he had placed down on the table between them, "I know I'm having fun, but are you enjoying yourself?"

"Of course I am." Deborah sighed, rolling her eyes and reaching across the table to take his hand in hers; he looked somewhat placated, but not entirely, "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't. Besides, I'm rather looking forward to seeing whether your intimate knowledge of aviation could fill the other half of the museum as well as the first."

That was enough to reassured him, and before she knew it, Martin was back to his thrilled and excitable self, pulling her around from plane to plane, mouth running at a mile a minute.

oOoOoOo

Well past midnight, Deborah thought back over the events of the evening, a small contended smile curling up the corner of her lips as she sighed; it really had been a while since she'd had such a good time.

It had been late when they arrived back at the hotel, and for all intents and purposes, the date had been a success; Martin had been beautifully affectionate, and Deborah had found herself pressed against the door of their room, pushing back into the determined kisses that he was giving, hands grasping to get a secure hold.

Now Deborah lay in bed, stripped and sleepy, perfectly content beside Martin, whose arm rested behind her back, hugging her ever so slightly into his side as he played with the fingers on one of her hands, and her other digits brushed delicately up and down his chest; she was sure that Martin's eyes were tracing her face, burning little trails across her cheeks as every now and then he pressed a small kiss to her forehead, but she focused solely on the path of her hand.

After the initial rush had died down, it hadn't become awkward, but there was a sense that the space between them had become taut like the strings on a violin, balanced so precariously that one wrong move might have toppled what they had built.

"Was that…um…did you…" Martin murmured, managing to stutter even when his voice was so low and smooth, to the point that Deborah could almost feel it rumbling in his chest, "Was…uh, was that…good for you?"

Deborah let out a laugh at that, smiling widely and turning her head to rest more fully on his shoulder; she thought she heard Martin chuckle lightly, nervously, but she wasn't sure, as his fingers stilled on hers, simply holding.

"Yes, it was good Martin." She assured him; Martin was clumsy, as expected, but passionate all the same, and there was nothing about that that Deborah could fault, "It was fun…I enjoyed myself." Martin hummed in acknowledgement, and Deborah tipped her head back to meet his gaze, sighing at the pensive dip of his eyebrows above the redness of his cheeks, "Well, now that we've covered the whole dating syllabus, is this the point where we have another talk?"

Deborah didn't want to talk again; she was happy with things the way that they were, but she couldn't lie to herself. Even though they kissed when they said hello and goodbye, and spent time together, and had now consummated their relationship to some extent…it sometimes felt like they were just…dabbling, rather than actually managing a relationship of sorts.

"Yes, uh, yes we should. I mean, we started this on the basis that we would try." Martin remarked, and he shifted slightly so that he could better see her face, though his hold on her didn't lessen, too relaxed despite his stuttering, "And now we've tried everything…do you think we're working?"

"I have no complaints…" Deborah replied softly, swallowing weakly, "All of this, it's good, it really is." Steeling herself, she decided that honesty was the best policy; the lack of it had been the downfall of all of her previous relationships, and she didn't think she could bear Martin to suffer the same fate, "But, I just feel as if we're not entirely…in a relationship, because we've focused so hard on just trying, that we haven't really relaxed into it. How do you suggest that we decide whether we're actually functioning?"

"Oh, I've been thinking about that actually! I didn't some nosing around on the internet-" Martin explained, regaining a sense of the excitement that he had embodied before, shifting until he was propped up ever so slightly; Deborah quirked her eyebrows, and held back a retort, "and the general consensus is that successful relationships, real ones, are built on three concepts."

"Oh?" Deborah replied, smirking up at him; of course he had been researching, "And what would those be?"

"Well, the first one is friendship, and we're good on that count." Martin remarked confidently, gesturing with the hand that he kept curled around hers; Deborah could have suffocated under the pleasant fluttering that his certainty incited, "And the second was passion, and after tonight…"

"Martin, I think we established weeks ago that mutual attraction was a given." Deborah interjected, stroking the back of her hand down his chest again, "And after tonight, I don't doubt that."

"Right, well, yes…we've got the friendship, and the passion," Martin continued, business like and efficient; then he dragged his bottom lip through his teeth and ducked his head, before meeting her eyes with a shy smile, "The third bit is commitment, so basically whether the relationship will last long term, and whether its exclusive…which is what you're talking about when you say you're not sure, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Deborah answered; after a moment's thought, and a deep breath to centre herself, she continued, eyes tracing the curve of his neck instead of meeting his gaze, "Martin, for reference, I would like us to last long term…and I very much want to be exclusive, just you and I."

Martin's chest heaved as if he were inhaling sharply, and when Deborah glanced up, she found that his face had lit up, and he was smiling nervously, licking his lips; his hand restarted its motions over hers, and he jostled as he used his other arm to gesture demonstratively.

"Good – good, me too." He exclaimed, cheeks flushing with a thrilled sort of blush; it made Deborah all the more certain of the warmth bubbling in her chest, through her veins, "I want this to last, I really, really do, and I definitely want it to be just us." Martin paused, and lifted his hand to brush her hair behind her ears, "I don't want anyone else."

"Well, good." Deborah nodded, feeling oddly bashful all things considered; when no answer came save for the comforting weight of Martin's head coming to rest atop of hers, Deborah let herself relax, and curl back into him, leaving her arm to rest lightly over his chest.

Minutes passed in unstrained silence, and as it was dark already, Deborah let her eyes drift shut, as she focused on how wonderful it felt having Martin right there with her, instead of the myriad of thoughts whirring about in her head.

"Do you want me to go back to my bed, or can I stay here?" Martin's voice penetrated the quiet, though he barely moved as he spoke, the words almost vibrations through his throat; he sounded tentative, despite their discussion, and Deborah's heart clenched momentarily.

"Please stay." She murmured, and that was all it took for Martin to turn slightly, wrapping his free arm more securely over her waist, to join his other hand where it still held hers. Deborah lay still, and tried not to shiver with happiness when she felt him press a small kiss to the skin just beside her ear, where her hair was already falling back into its normal place.

For the first time in two weeks, like breathing cleaner air, it felt as if they were actually in a relationship, without having to think about every move; it was more than Deborah had dared hope for.

First and foremost, I must rant about the Airforce museum in Ohio. It is AMAZING. I went when I was twelve, and it is everything that Martin's heaven would be - I would suggest taking the virtual tour on their website, but even that doesn't do justice to the beauty of the place. I took over 200 photos, and that was only because my camera died at the beginning of WW2.

On a more relevant note, I hope this chapter is everything people wanted; I thought that it moved things along nicely.