Hello, Hello, Hello - another chapter here. Thank you for reading and reviewing. Still not at series 4, but there's still a lot of development to go before we get there.

Interlude 13

Despite the darkened wash of the sky, it was still too early to even consider turning in for the night; with no flight, they had endured the usual stand-by nine to five day, and Deborah was still wide awake, having barely exhausted a shred of energy.

It had taken a lot of convincing, some surreptitious nudging, and a lot of subtle murmurs, but Martin had finally grown comfortable having Deborah in his attic, enough at least that he no longer shuffled around or tried to justify the sparseness, and even seemed to enjoy having her there for extended periods of time.

Even so, it was a rare occasion that they spent the night in Parkside Terrace instead of in Deborah's flat; it was frustrating, but she had convinced herself not to bring up the matter of Martin putting down roots in her home. Every now and then Deborah would mention leaving clothes or items in her flat, or hint that he could stay for good if he wanted, but each time Martin would brush it off and change the subject. So they didn't talk about it.

But tonight Martin had been eager and willing for Deborah to hop into his van and accompany him back to his attic; apparently he had been looking forward to some sort of 'couple's evening' all week, and if she hadn't asked, he would have. Deborah had rolled her eyes and made a sarcastic remark concerning scheduling, but in truth, she was rather fond of his regimented quirks.

So, after dodging the students all the way up the stairs, Deborah had changed from her uniform into a pair of Martin's shorts and the t-shirt that he wore to bed, dropping onto his bed and waiting for him to complete his 'getting home' routine, tapping the television remote against her leg.

"Are you joining me or not Martin?" Deborah called, smirking slightly as she watched Martin bumble around his kitchen area, arranging the utensils that had been stacked by the sink; she slouched on the bed, leaning back into the pillow that she had propped between her back and the wall, her ankles crossing in tandem with the arms that she folded loosely over her chest, "Because you have two minutes before I start the film without you."

That should have instilled in him some sort of haste; he had chosen the DVD himself, as a sort of christening after his brother had given him his second hand player in what Deborah was assured was an unusual show of brotherly affection.

"Yes, yes, just one minute!" Martin's voice echoed slightly from the cupboard that he had his head stuck in (Deborah could only see his backside as he rifled through his belongings, but she wasn't about to complain); one arm waved frantically in the air over his shoulder, "Don't even think about starting without me."

Deborah snorted, grinning at the little bounce in his tone as she relaxed, prepared to wait for him, but relishing how perfectly Martin reacted to teasing, even after so long; it still made little flutters of heat cartwheel in her chest.

When Martin emerged on the correct side of the room, his hair out of place and his shirt creased in all the wrong places, he kept his hand behind his back, the corner of his lips curling up at the edges.

"Okay Deborah, get ready for a cosy night in…" Martin announced, ignoring her quirked eyebrow and pandering instead to the inquisitive way that she leaned forwards to try and discover what he was hiding, "I've brought your favourite thing..." he dragged his words as if to create tension, and then whipped his hands from behind his back, and his face split into a wide smile, "Caramel ice cream!"

"Oh, Martin, you magnificent man!" Deborah drawled, immediately extending her arms and curling her fingers in a some hither motion; she shifted slightly so that when Martin clambered onto the bed to sit beside her, he could wrap an arm around her and she could rest with one shoulder tucked in against his chest, taking to plastic tub and spoons from his hands and replacing them with the remote.

"I knew that would put you in a good mood." Martin muttered proudly, puffing out his chest as he aimed the remote at the television and made a few aborted jabbing motions before the screen flickered into life; the arm around Deborah's waist tugged as she fiddled with her nails between the plastic edges of the dessert, and he ducked his head down to remark playfully, but with a more serious edge, "And before you say anything, it was on offer."

"I wasn't going to say anything." Deborah replied swiftly, yanking the lid away and letting it drop to the floor (she would get it later); for a split second it felt as if the comfortable stupor had stiffened, but she simply swallowed her indignation and snuggled back into Martin's embrace, tipping her head back so that she could meet his gaze and drawled salaciously, "If you don't watch out, caramel ice cream might find itself becoming my second favourite thing."

"What…? Oh, you mean me?" Martin exclaimed, his eyes blowing wide for a fleeting moment, before he cleared his throat and adopted a modicum of satirical grace, missing by a mile and landing instead in the waters of smug smirks and flushed cheeks as the tension disappeared from his limbs and he rested his cheeks against the top of Deborah's head, "Um, thank you…I love you too."

"I said if." Deborah teased, and was rewarded with a sharp tug at her waist and Martin's scrunched up face pressing a sloppy kiss against her hair; knocked off balance, and giggling reluctantly, Deborah had to catch herself, hand curled into Martin's shirt, as she resettled with one leg hooked over his, holding his hands still around her, "What have I said about tickling me?"

"I don't know, I couldn't hear you over the giggling." Martin retorted seriously, making sure not to make eye contact even as he sniggered, keeping his head straight as he began to fiddle with the remote once again; by then the screen was filled with little moving figures, and all that needed doing was to switch to the channel that he had connected to the DVD player.

Deborah shook her head, lips pursed, but all that she could muster was an undeniable wash of affection and love; it was so much easier to let her head drop into the curve of his shoulder and lay her hands over the crook in his elbow than to provoke him further. Much nicer too.

Half an hour later, and Deborah was barely paying attention to the film; she suspected that Martin too was sparing it only his peripheral focus, as the volume was low, and his head was turned just enough that he could watch the movement of his fingers as they stroked over hers, intertwining and stroking gently in the few centimetres between them.

That made then as good a moment as any; with the comfortable rhythm that they had fallen into, and the almost perfect evening, not over the top, nor dull at all, but just right, like pieces drawn together and clicking into place, it was hard to think of anything but the same few thoughts that had been rolling around the back of her mind for a week or two.

"Martin?" Deborah whispered, just in case her assessment had been wrong; Martin hummed in acknowledgement, and shifted just enough beneath her that it was the equivalent of turning and giving her his full attention, so Deborah slowly lifted her head, pushing away the hair that fell into her face and steeled herself, continuing softly, "I need to ask you something important, and you need to answer it honestly."

Barely a second passed before Martin was sluggishly pulling himself into a more upright position, reluctant to relinquish their embrace, but concerned, eyes narrowing as Deborah slid backwards and he could take a clearer look at her face.

"What is it?" Martin asked when she didn't continue straight away; his hand moved to push her hair more firmly behind her ear, letting his knuckles brush soothingly against her cheeks as he corrected the task that she had failed to complete.

"How would you feel about telling people about us?" Deborah answered quickly, making sure that her tone was firm and that she pursed her lips purposefully; she took in the confused dip of Martin's eyebrows and continued, determined to get her point across before he could add any sort of doubt, "We've been together for four months now, and we're, at least I believe that we're perfectly secure in our relationship, and how we feel about each other, so I see no reason for us to still be consorting in secret."

"But four months…" Martin repeated, thinning his lips and sucking in air through his teeth; Deborah sat back a little further, missing the warmth he provided the moment that the rustling of her clothes against his met her ears, "Four months is almost nothing in the grand scheme-"

"I've known people get engaged in three." Deborah interjected, pouting slightly as she brought her arms around her chest; it was only when she saw Martin's eyes widen and his hand still where it had been tapping unconsciously on her knee that she realised what she had actually said.

"Do you want to get engaged?" Martin retorted, with something akin to bemused terror lacing his voice; he was shaking his head ever so slightly, and his eyes were scanning up and down her face, "Because I – I don't think we're there yet."

"No, no of course not!" Deborah assured him, breaking eye contact and pushing a hand through her hair; then she paused, and her forehead furrowed as she glanced back up to where Martin was staring at her wearing a wary expression, "Wait…yet?"

"Well, I-I-I, um, I-" Martin spluttered, looking anywhere but at her; Deborah knew that she would get no straight answer when he began picking at his sleeves, doing as they always did, and avoiding anything too intense, "I still don't think we should tell people about us, yet."

"Why not?" Deborah demanded weakly; it wasn't that she wanted to push Martin into something he didn't want, but there was something about his refusal to move forwards that made little spirals of doubt cling to her insides, regardless of how happy she was otherwise, "Is it that you're embarrassed, or that you think it's unprofessional, or perhaps you're just not ready? You can tell me; I don't know what you think I'm going to do."

"I'm not embarrassed." Martin insisted, his chest heaving momentarily with a flare of proud indignation, reaching between them to grasp at Deborah's hands; it was a small comfort, but Deborah took it for what it was, dropping her eyes sheepishly, "And I don't think it's unprofessional; unprofessional would be if we just slept together every now and again, but we don't, we're in a relationship, so the CAA can't possibly have a problem with that." Deborah rolled her eyes, but Martin sounded far too decisive to argue with; he sighed, and dragged his bottom lip through his teeth, "…I am ready…I just like things the way they are."

"But surely there's nothing wrong with Carolyn and Arthur knowing." Deborah suggested, shrugging nonchalantly and smiling thinly; in truth, she knew that they probably suspected that something was going on, but so long as they were ignorant, Deborah couldn't help but feel bereft of something, though she wasn't sure what.

"Deborah, you're the most private person I know." Martin sighed; he shifted so that he was kneeling with his legs tucked beneath him; Deborah quirked an eyebrow, but listened, "I know it upsets you when I say that you're well out of my league – I don't want what we've got to become strained when everyone else is saying the same thing!"

"Oh, why would anyone be saying anything Martin?" Deborah asked flippantly; as far as she was concerned, they were happy together, and after all the embarrassments that she , "It's not as if anything's really changed."

"But things have changed!" Martin insisted, his hands flipping into the air for emphasis, "We've changed! Or, well, at least you have – I don't know if I have. People notice, and they talk, and I just want some more time to enjoy us without having to worry about that."

"How have I changed?" Deborah interrupted; a cold hand clenched around her lungs, and she stiffened, no longer clasping Martin's hands as he was hers. Even though it was silly, her mind rang back to before, to accusations from other men that she hadn't been herself when they were together.

"Well, you haven't really," Martin explained, cocking his head to the side as he ran his gaze over her, smiling encouragingly, the corners of his lips curling redundantly upwards, "You've just…mellowed a bit."

"And I suppose you prefer this 'mellow' me?" Deborah inquired tersely, pouting slightly as she glared towards the corner of the bed; she thought that she might have sounded bitter, but couldn't change that once the words had left her mouth.

"No, Deborah, I love you regardless – maybe I didn't say it right," Martin muttered, shaking his head and chewing on his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes in intense concentration, "You haven't changed, you're still you, like you were when we met – i-it's just like with Flight Simulator, when they change the model. It's the same thing, they've just tweaked the user interface so that it's easier to access-"

"Oh, I see…" Deborah drawled, hastily reasserting her confidence, forcing away the simmering of discomfort in her guts and taking back the upper hand; she smirked at Martin's shaky smile, as she could see him thinking that he had done well, "So, I've mellowed in much the same way that you've become bolder, and no longer feel the need to stutter and assert your authority?"

Martin huffed, and rolled his eyes, but bit back the sarcastic retort that was almost palpable on his lips; it wasn't hard to see that he was tired, and far too tired of their conversation to push the subject much further.

"It's getting late Deborah…can we just forget about this tonight?" Martin asked, his voice low as he slumped where he was slouched, hiss posture loose and languidly taut; Deborah took a moment to trace her eyes over the lines of his face, and found that as much as she wanted to settle things then and there, she couldn't make herself prod him anymore.

"Alright…" she sighed, ducking her head; while Martin nodded and extended his arm, motioning for her to return to his side, Deborah shifted only a fraction, so that she could sit by his side, knees pulled to her chest as she leaned close enough that her arm was pressed to his, "Not a word."

oOoOoOo

An overnight stay in Las Vegas provided Deborah with the perfect opportunity to surprise Martin with a romantic and enjoyable evening; she knew that he was going to love it, but hadn't been sure of the best way to trick him into it in her own flat. A hotel in a foreign country was the perfect place to execute her plan.

Martin had flat out refused to go to a casino and count cards, even though Deborah knew that he could; she knew that his brain was astonishingly wired for mathematics, and she had even seen him counting when they played Uno. Cheating her out of her pride was apparently more ethical than earning a bit of cash though, and Martin had simply shook his head, a tiny smirk adorning his lips at the acknowledgement of his superior academic skills.

About half an hour ago, Deborah had sent Martin off in search of shampoo, claiming that she had forgotten hers and left it at home, and he had dutifully left, promising to be back soon; that gave her the hotel room to herself, and Deborah wasn't wasting a moment of it.

Using the mirror on the back of the bathroom door to check her appearance, Deborah pursed her lips as she smoothed down the creases in her recently purchased attire; it couldn't quite be called lingerie, more of a thin purple dress that revealed far more than was acceptable anywhere outside of the bedroom, airy and tight fitting, held up by hair-string straps, less than a metre of material beneath her hair, which had grown long enough that it fell it darkish waves over her shoulders.

Perhaps not the most sexual or revealing thing she could have bought for the occasion, but Deborah had no doubt that it would get Martin eager enough to spice up the evening. The air-conditioning unit was a tad stronger than most hotels provided, and Deborah had slipped a robe over her shoulders to counter the flow; arranging it over her curves, she mused that it might even help dramatise her big reveal.

A knock at the door cut through the air, and Deborah's hand moved reflexively to slam the bathroom door shut, returning to push her hair back as she inhaled deeply, steadying herself; Martin had probably forgotten his key, again. That wasn't a problem; it meant that she could unveil her surprise in an even more sultry manner.

Deborah fiddled with her attire each second that it took to cross the room, and she paused with her fingers curled around the handle; one arm propped against the frame, the other crooked with a hand on her waist, and a salacious smirk, that was all she would need to execute the perfect seduction.

"That was quick, darling-" Deborah drawled, adopting the most suave posture that she could as she let the door swing open; except, it wasn't Martin that greeted her with wide eyes and lips pursed in confusion, "Carolyn!"

"Deborah…" Carolyn replied stiltedly, taking a moment to flicker her eyes over Deborah's attire as she hastily wrapped the robe around her, folding her arms tightly over her chest and hunching ever so slightly in order to compensate for the surge of embarrassment that rippled through her flesh, "What the hell are you wearing?"

"I'd have thought that was obvious." Deborah tried not to hiss as she stepped back and allowed Carolyn to enter the room; she could feel her cheeks tickling as they filled with blood, and it was too much to ask that it couldn't be seen in the tepid lights above their heads.

"Then let me rephrase that – why the hell are you dressed like that on a Wednesday evening?" Carolyn demanded, still looking her up and down, eyebrows at her hairline as Deborah grumbled and stomped back to her bed, dropping gracelessly down onto the edge; Carolyn stood a few feet away, her hands on her hips, "I thought you were sharing with-" she broke off, mouth hanging open, and she continued in a tone more shocked than Deborah had even heard from the woman, "Martin? Deborah, please tell me you're not sleeping with Martin?"

"I think that might be a bit redundant now, wouldn't it?" Deborah muttered petulantly, folding one leg over the other, tucking into herself as she glared up at the older woman; Carolyn didn't even snort as she thought that she might.

"But Martin?" Carolyn exclaimed, now shaking her head, forehead furrowed in bewildered shock as she glared down at Deborah; it was beginning to make her stomach roil uncomfortably, "Of all the people – Martin?"

"That's enough Carolyn." Deborah raised her hands into the air briefly, dropping them back onto her lap; she sat as straight as she could without letting her robe reveal too much, feasting off the rush of fiery defensiveness that burned through her chest, "I don't want to hear a thousand reasons why you think Martin isn't good enough, or why we shouldn't work, or whatever other criticisms you can think of…I just need you to accept that it's happening, and move on."

There was no immediate response; Carolyn stared, open mouthed, and Deborah almost squirmed under the odd glint in the other woman's eyes. She didn't know how she had been expecting her to react, but this hadn't been it; Martin had been right, Deborah really didn't like the judgement.

"Oh, dear lord!" Carolyn groaned, her eyes still wide in what might have been horror; she ran a hand over her face, before fixing Deborah with a pointed glare, "You actually have feelings for him…"

"Of course I do, we're in a relationship!" Deborah snapped, inhaling sharply as she held Carolyn's glare; oddly, it occurred to her that she had never realised how furious insults to Martin's honour made her, "Would you rather it was just a fling?"

"A fling would be easy to deal with!" Carolyn retorted, throwing her hands into the air, and sighing beseechingly, "You'd just go back to normal when it was over, no harm done. But feelings…Deborah, you realise that if things go wrong, it won't be just the two of you that suffer?" Carolyn stilled, and shook her head again, making sure to meet Deborah's gaze, the light in her eyes almost near to imploring, or concerned, "What if you end up hating each other so much that I lose both my pilots?"

"Why would we end up hating each other?" Deborah's voice wavered towards the end, and her arms wrapped once again around her chest, holding herself together as she tried to maintain her steely façade.

"The two of you nearly flew GERTI into a mountain because you were too busy arguing over which Star Trek era was the best." Carolyn replied wryly, reverting to her usual ambiance of muted disdain.

"Martin's a fool if he thinks Picard comes anywhere near the greatness of Kirk and his crew." Deborah drawled, rolling her eyes and shaking her head; Carolyn's distempered huff was reward enough, and her spirits lifted infinitesimally, "Oh, don't look at me like that, Martin and I are fine, and there's no need to worry about the future of MJN."

Deborah ran a hand through her hair, and waited for the sarcastic and cutting remark; none came, and when she looked up, Carolyn was watching her pensively, head cocked just an inch. She tried to raise a derisory smirk, but couldn't shift the sad droop of her expression, nor the dejected slump of her shoulders.

"So…you and Martin?" Carolyn inquired, bringing her hands together at her front and rocking on her heels; the tentative, withdrawn edge to her tone made Deborah's breath catch in her throat, and she raised an eyebrow to stare up at her in surprise, even as Carolyn continued, "How long?"

It took a moment before Deborah could answer; she was too caught off guard by the unusual show of interest, and the implication that her employer might actually care, no matter how reluctantly.

"Uh…four months…" Deborah told her, quirking her eyebrows and shrugging in a facsimile of surprise that Carolyn mirrored, though far more genuinely; she lifted a hand into the air in surrender, "Before you say anything, we were going to tell you…eventually."

"Good…" Carolyn remarked awkwardly, finally taking her eyes from Deborah's to glance around the room, "That's good I suppose…"

Thankfully, at that moment, the door swung open; as Carolyn turned on her heel, faster than Deborah had ever seen her move, Deborah rose to her feet in an instant, arms held stiffly against her chest as she cursed inwardly.

"Hey, Deborah, I think I left the door open, are-" Martin trailed off as he took in the scene before him, a small plastic bag hooked over one of his arms as the other was extended to grip the door handle; his eyes lingered torturously long on Deborah, dragging up and down her form twice, before he jolted, flushed scarlet, and almost choked as he looked to Carolyn, "What's, uh – what's going on?"

"Nothing to worry about Martin, I was just having a little chat with you girlfriend." Carolyn assured him, a shark-like smirk crawling onto her lips as she clapped her hands together in a business-like fashion; while Martin's mouth clapped open and closed, and small reedy noises escaped, Deborah spared only a moment to realise that she still had no idea what Carolyn had wanted in the first place, and apparently, neither did she, "I think she has something planned."

With that Carolyn strode past Martin's frozen form, clapping him on the back as she passed, and disappeared through the open door without a backwards glance, pausing only to push it shut behind her. Deborah stayed where she was, winding her fingers together and uncertain of what she could say that wouldn't tip the delicate balance of Martin's nerves as he placed the bag he was carrying on the floor and turned, swallowing hard, to address her.

"Were you wearing that when you opened the door?" Martin inquired, his finger pointing up and down to encompass the sparse entirety of Deborah's attire; of course he couldn't just interrogate her properly, Deborah mused fondly, swallowing down her sheepishness.

"No, I put it on specially for Carolyn." She drawled sarcastically, feeling triumphant when Martin smirked and took a slow step towards her, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck as his eyes moved once again from her toes to the top of her head, returning to the same few spots, "Of course I was wearing it – which is why it's not my fault that she knows now…it's yours for not being here on time."

"Well I'm sorry I wasn't expecting some sort of explicit reception." Martin exclaimed dryly, snorting a little at his own jokes; he stepped a little closer, and Deborah took the initiative and moved close enough so that the tips of his fingers could glide over her waist, and she could stroke her hands over the curves of his elbows, while he dragged his lips through his teeth and asked softly, "So she was, um, she was okay…with us, I mean?"

"Yes, she was fine." Deborah replied drolly; she abandoned any semblance of coyness that she had been imitating and simply stepped forwards into Martin's arms, slipping her own up and over his shoulders so that she could take whatever comfort she could from being held, just for a moment, "But by tomorrow Arthur will know, so I'd be more worried about that."

"Hmmm…you look incredible by the way." Martin hummed, tucking his head in atop hers and hugging her gently; Deborah bit her tongue and laughed silently, shortly, at the typical way in which he was distracted from the matter at hand, even as he leaned back to take a look at her face and ask tentatively, "And, um… 'girlfriend'?"

Deborah laughed, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead tenderly against the crook of Martin's momentarily; then she slipped from his grasp, and turned with a flourish to drop onto her bed, shifting back until she could rest her leg atop it and smirk up at him.

"Oh, I don't know darling." She drawled, shrugging one shoulder nonchalantly, relishing how Martin's tongue darted out to wet his lips, "I rather like the idea…it makes it sound so much more formal."

oOoOoOo

To say that Arthur was excited by the news would have been an understatement. When Deborah and Martin arrived in the hotel restaurant for breakfast, Arthur had been shining so brightly that he could have supported a small planetary system had he so desired.

"This is brilliant!" he had exclaimed before they had even taken their seats; he leant across the table, hands clasped together and propped up on his elbows, cheeks almost non-existent beneath his wide grin, "I knew you'd end up together, it was just a matter of time. You two are going to be perfect, I know – it's so obvious that you're in love! I have never been happier for anyone, in my life!"

As Deborah ran a hand through her hair and ducked her head, staring pointedly at the table top and feeling awfully like what she imagined teenagers must feel like when their parents gush about their achievements to strangers, Martin flushed and cleared his throat awkwardly, though no words came out, and hidden beneath his curled hand was a steadily glowing smile.

"Oh, Arthur, leave them alone." Carolyn had scolded him, but although Arthur did as he was told and settled back down, Deborah was sure that Carolyn was sneaking glances at the two of them, as if trying to find out if the events of the previous night had been a hoax.

The flight back was normal…as were the next few days. In fact, to Deborah's immense pleasure, everything was as it should have been, save for the added benefit of being in a romantic relationship with her best friend.

There was something wonderfully normal about being able to get up from her desk, wander over to where Martin was sitting on the sofa with his files on his knees, and slump down beside him, wrapping her arms around his waist and knowing that she would receive a small kiss on her forehead if he was feeling receptive. And nobody said a word about it, except for the occasional sarcastic comment on teasing remark, which was to be expected of course, from anyone associated with MJN.

Karl had greeted Arthur's surprise declaration (which he had only achieved by darting an arm over Deborah's shoulder) with a short silence, and then hysterical laughter, his mirth echoing around the flight-deck.

"Well done Martin!" he had congratulated the blushing and stammering Captain while sighed and rolled her eyes, ignoring the warm fluttering in her chest, "How'd you manage that?"

The grounds crew had given her a few funny looks, but Deborah found that in general, they met her and Martin with a jovial sort of jeering, as one might when teasing their drunken mates in a bar; if anything, the shift in their relationship had allowed Martin to enter the ranks of the 'men' as far as the grounds people were concerned. Dave had even given his shoulders a playful squeeze and whispered something in Martin's ear that made him blush and laugh stiltedly.

The only time that Deborah wished to go back to the way things were was fleeting, and occurred shortly after Herc arrived in the porta-cabin to take Carolyn to an opera, something that the other woman had been complaining profusely about for hours.

Deborah and Martin were seated behind their desk as Carolyn stormed around, making sure that everything was ready for her to leave; it had taken some heavy persuasion, but eventually Martin had convinced Deborah that if she did half of the paperwork, they'd make it home earlier.

"Congratulations, you two." Herc declared as he came to stand on the other side of the desk, hands in his pockets as he smiled smarmily down at them; Deborah was able to resist the temptation to roll her eyes as she stopped writing, and Martin looked up with a pleased expression on his face, dropping his pen down, "I'm very happy for you."

"Thank you, Herc." Martin replied cheerfully, bringing his hands together to tent his fingers where they rested on the desk; when Herc nodded politely, smiling as if the comment were no bother at all, Martin turned to Deborah, "It's very kind of you, isn't it Deborah?"

When Deborah only reluctantly hummed in agreement, taking pains to appear as if the forms she were filling out were of the utmost importance, the men shared a despairing look, and Herc shrugged and wandered back over to Carolyn. But not before giving one last glance, and snorting under his breath.

"Hold on, what was that?" Deborah demanded as Herc moved to Carolyn's side, taking her bag from her so that she could pile her arms with more things to be locked away where her employees couldn't reach them; both of them paused, and upon seeing Deborah's accusatory stare, sniggered, "What…?" then with a flash of indignant horror, she realised what was going on, "Carolyn! You told him? Why would you tell him, that's not funny!"

"If I'm honest Deborah, you greeting me in your best lingerie is possibly the funniest thing you've ever done in the time I've employed you." Carolyn sniggered, pouting sarcastically and shaking her head as she walked past their desk to place a stack of files in the cupboard to the side of the room.

"And much funnier than anything you ever did when I knew you before." Herc added, barely blinking as Deborah narrowed her eyes at him and imagined him bursting into colourful flames; he would probably make the most of that, even if it worked.

Deborah didn't say anything; she tried, but couldn't quite think of a good enough retort. Instead, she sucked up her breath, and glared at Martin, placing her palms against her desk and silently ordering him to 'make them stop teasing me'.

Martin rolled his eyes, and the corners of his lips twitched, but to Deborah's relief, he retained his clean slate as a good and decent partner.

"Come on, leave her alone." He sighed fondly, looking between Carolyn and Herc; Deborah chose to ignore the almost conspiratorial glint in their eyes, as Martin was trying to stand up for her, in as much as he ever did.

"Not a chance." Carolyn replied gleefully; she paced back across the room to take her bag from Herc, and threw it over her shoulder with such a vigour that she might have been demonstrating her independence, as her expression grew more serious, and she turned on them, "Now, you're to lock up when you're finished here. Arthur's hovering GERTI, but when he's done, I expect everything to be packed away, and not left wide open like it was last time I left you both in charge."

Martin muttered his assent, and Deborah decisively gripped her pen tightly and made sure to put as much focus into her handwriting as possible until both Carolyn and Herc were clear from the building. When she heard the door clack closed, she didn't even have time to look up before she felt Martin's foot nudging affectionately at her calf.

A warm smile creeping onto her lips despite everything, Deborah lifted her eyes to meet Martin's; with his hand sliding across the desk between them, and a comforting, apologetic tinge to his cheeks, she was almost ready to forget her discontent.

Until the door jammed open one last time, and Herc stuck his head through the gap.

"Oh, and I forgot to say before," he remarked, apparently oblivious to the matching thin lipped stares of two people unhappy with the interruption; he simply smirked instead, his gaze falling particularly on Deborah, "Do enjoy the rest of your evening."

And then he was gone, leaving Deborah regretting ever sharing anything personal with Carolyn; if things carried on this way, she would have to start telling Herc about some of the humiliating things Carolyn had done over the years.

So, I hope that was okay. I'm pleased with the concept of this chapter, but not so much the writing of it (I've had a weird couple of days and my concentration has been zero)

Anyway, thanks for reading