Hello all and thank you for reading

Chapter 44

There was nothing more bewildering than returning from a sun stroked country only to find that Fitton was playing host to torrential rain so thick that the sheets of water plummeting from the sky buffeted GERTI as she neared the ground, and whistled, eerily amplified by the metal shell.

Deborah wasn't particularly worried, having landed in worse conditions, and even Martin was gritting his teeth and grumbling at the world instead of panicking, but that didn't make it any less tricky to try and land the damn plane now that his previous calculations regarding the landing were null and void.

Carolyn and Arthur were strapped down in the Cabin, along with the pair of wealthy honeymooners that they had been ferrying around the Caribbean for the better part of the weekend.

"Alright chaps, you can come in."Karl told them through the sat-com, his voice crackling slightly with the interference caused by the near flooding of every nook and cranny of the ATC tower, "Just bear in mind that it's like an ice rink down here; there's about an inch of water on the runway."

"That's alright." Deborah replied cheerfully, exchanging a resigned grimace with Martin, who rolled his eyes as he tapped the metres, pressing his lips together in concentration while he hastily calculated the new angles and speeds that they would need, "I've always wanted to try landing in a puddle; what a lovely surprise that there happens to be one big enough."

"Righto." Karl responded, lacking his usual joviality, "I'll have the fire crew stand by then. Fair warning though, they've been drinking, so if you could perhaps not crash, that would be great."

Martin flicked the sat-com off before Deborah could come back with a decent retort, and she didn't need telling twice; listening to the instructions given, Deborah made the adjustments that Martin had come up with, and offered her own suggestions where he had perhaps overlooked a detail or two. By the time the plane was aiming at the runway, their arms were darting here and there, forwards, above their heads, across to the other side of the flight-deck, and Deborah was mostly confident that they'd land in a semblance of a straight line.

"Okay, okay, o-okay-" Martin stuttered, as he took the controls in hand and squared his shoulders, turning to Deborah with wide eyes; as surreptitiously as she could, Deborah also slipped her hands around the controls, just in case Martin seized up, not that she suspected he would given his track record with immense pressure, and raised her eyes patiently for him to continue, "We-we're uh, r-ready to go? You ready to land?"

"Yes, yes, yes, Captain." Deborah told him, offering a comforting little smirk, even though the feeling wasn't quite behind it; it seemed to have the desired effect though, as Martin exhaled thoroughly, and began reeling off the instructions needed to make the descent.

The descent that ended up being far more…choppy…than Deborah might have liked, and with far more shouting at each other; GERTI ended up soaring to the very right edge of the runway, despite their efforts, and a sudden gust of wind made it difficult to slow down as they had planned, aided also by the visual impairment caused by the downpour. On a more positive note, the shouting was less that of anger or frustration, and more the frantic yelling that could often be heard over board games, or similarly stressful events where fond despair could be found in bucket loads.

"No, no, no, go there!"

"I'm going there, stop pressing that!"

"Will you just sit still and let me-"

"No! Just- argh!"

When GERTI finally hit the tarmac, sending the both of them lurching forwards, Deborah kept her hands on the controls, and her entire posture clenched and Martin did the same beside her, while an ear-splitting screech rang through the air, and outside of the window the world seemed to spin, adding to the tilting, whirling sensation inside the flight-deck. Then with another jerk, the movement ceased with a thud, and Deborah's ears continued to ring as the blood pounded through her hands where they were clenched painfully.

"Did we live?" Deborah winced, rolling her shoulders back and wincing as a shrill beeping began to emanate from the control panel; she didn't move too much, but instead stared at the ever so slightly tilted line that marked the horizon of the runway.

"I-I think so." Martin replied shakily, audibly breathing at twice the normal pace; without warning, Deborah felt his hand flop down onto hers, and she didn't think twice about allowing him to wind his fingers through hers, relishing the solidity of his bony hand as he grasped at her, "Y-you feel solid, so I'm going to assume that we're fine."

"Good job pilots."Karl's voice startled the both of them, and as the tension left Deborah's limbs, and he finally let out the breath that she had been holding to look around the flight-deck, she saw that Martin was doing the same, gnawing on his bottom lip and retracting his hand from hers to sort out the warnings, "My only criticism would be that you're facing the wrong way. Other than that, nice execution, and I'm giving you eight out of ten."

"Thank you Karl." Martin answered wanly, as he slapped down the last intermittent screech, only to slump back in his seat, and turn his head to acknowledge that Deborah was watching his every move.

Deborah wasn't sure what happened, but one moment she was running her eyes over Martin's face, his sheepishly pinched expression and his almost jittering blue eyes, caught in that familiar feeling of not quite being on the same wavelength, but of complete togetherness, like a warm balloon inflating in her chest, and the next she was doubled over with laughter, listening to her own giggles mix with Martin's warm, nearly hysterical chuckles as from the corner of her eyes she could see him folding and dropping his head into his hands.

As she sat back in her seat, taking comfort from the hard padding pressed against her back, Deborah brought her laughter under control, and turned to meet Martin's gaze as he sighed and did the same; she couldn't quite keep the warm smile from pulling at her lips, but that was okay, as Martin's face was glowing.

There wasn't a chance to say what was on the tip of her tongue, as the flight-deck door clanged open, and Carolyn appeared in the space left behind, ruffled but set in a stubborn glare; she took one look at the two of them, seeing that they were both fine, and groaned, rolling her eyes.

"What the hell was that?" Carolyn demanded, gesturing towards the rain blurred window that still showed the wrong end of the runway and a sizeable patch of grass, "I pay you to fly my plane, not a fairground ride!"

One glance was all it took for Deborah and Martin to dissolve into even more peals of laughter, that only increased at the sound of Carolyn's huff and the sound of her storming away to look after the passengers.

oOoOoOo

It was still trickling outside two days later, but that was no matter, as they all had the day off, and Deborah could stay indoors if she pleased; it would have been a comfortable use of her time, lounging about, if she hadn't been quite so bored by the lack of anything even slightly productive to do.

Worst of all, the only thing that she could think of to fill her time was to text Martin; Deborah had always texted him when she was bored, or wanted to chat, at least since they had been friends, which in the grand scheme of things was a decent chunk of her life. It was just something they did…kept in contact, any day, any time, any subject matter. Today, he was on a van job, and so the only way that she could contact him was through her phone.

Behaving like that had been difficult when they had first split up, and then throughout that awkward period when Martin had been elsewhere with Theresa and interviews…now, in recent weeks, was the first time that Deborah had felt that constant tepid glow that came with simply being friends with Martin, best friends, and being able to drop into his company whenever she pleased.

Except now…with Martin rekindling his efforts to convince her to take him back, the glow was still there, but things that might have been acceptable between friends started to have…implications…that Deborah didn't want him to receive.

Ever since she had discovered Icarus, Deborah had texted Martin to find out how his trip was going, and to take his mind off of the labour; it had seemed like a normal, friendly thing to do. It was only now that she was watching her behaviour and making sure not to overstep lines, that Deborah realised that perhaps friends, even best friends, didn't make such an effort. If anything, the two of them had been acting like a couple long before she had even admitted to herself that that roaring in her chest was the desire to kiss him.

There was little chance that she would stop loving Martin, and Deborah was sure (thanks to his may efforts) that he loved her, and that fact was underlying their every interaction, no matter how much she refused to even consider resurrecting their relationship. The past few weeks had been wonderful; for the first time in so long, Deborah and Martin were friends without the impediments of lies and prevarication, and that was freeing.

Sure, Martin was keeping true on his promise to leap out every now and then without hassling her, but it was done so carefully, with nice sizeable gaps between each attempt, that Deborah could pretend that things were perfect between them until she had to politely turn him down, and then wait for the next one.

It had been five days after he turned up and her door before Martin caught her in the hotel in Vancouver and asked her to let him take her on a date, to which she had scoffed and batted him away, but conceded to go and people watch in the bar with him. Before and after that, Martin had behaved himself just as he had promised, gracefully accepting her decision, being the perfect friend to her for another four days, before popping up from the hold when she was doing the walk around to ask her if she'd take him back, sans offer of a date this time.

As much as Deborah wanted to text Martin and occupy herself, she was well aware that all it would do was encourage him; as much as she wanted to just say yes, there was still a chance that Swiss Air would call him back, and a certainty that if she did take him back, then they would fight, and be unhappy all over again. Deborah didn't know how she knew that, there was just a nagging in her gut that promised there would be no happy ending for them.

But she was still bored, and still sprawled on her sofa, and Deborah still missed Martin even though she had seen him only days before; maybe it wouldn't hurt to call him? No, that was obvious, there was no way to make a phone-call seem nonchalant

However…Martin had said that his job today involved ferrying someone's goods back and forth within Fitton, and Deborah knew that when he was doing a job within the confines of their little town, Martin always stopped for a soft drink at the same time, in the same pub near the town centre. He didn't buy food, because he was stubborn and would just eat a slightly larger dinner at home.

Based on that knowledge, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to imagine that a friend, devoid of any of the obligations of a relationship, might take pity on their other friend and happen to turn up at the same pub, armed with a snack; after all, everyone needed to eat.

No, Martin would see through that immediately, Deborah scolded herself…or…there was no reason that Martin couldn't be deluding himself, if Deborah made sure to impress upon him that her act was one of charity, and not a desire to see him, or to look after him. Any ideas that he go then were entirely his own fault.

oOoOoOo

Just as Deborah had expected, when she entered the pub at ten minutes past noon, Martin was perched on a bar stool in jeans and a t-shirt, his coat hanging open, sipping at an orange juice with his head ducked while he fingered through a newspaper that was laid open atop the bar. The man was as reliable as clockwork.

To her immense pleasure, Martin didn't look up as she approached him, which gave Deborah the opportunity to sidle up to him and shift her handbag over her shoulder as she hooked her hands behind her back, plastered on a winning smile, and then tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

Martin's head snapped up as he looked around for the offender, but his movements slowed, a warm smile crept onto his lips as his eyes softened in tandem to the flush of his cheeks when he realised who he was looking at; now, if that wasn't the expression of a man happy to see her then Deborah didn't know what was.

"Hello You." Deborah drawled brightly, grinning salaciously at him as Martin rose to his feet, looking her up and down as if checking that she were actually there; before she could react, he had stepped towards her and pulled her into a one armed embrace, briefly squeezing his arm around her waist and forcing her (not that she really fought) to wrap her arms around his shoulders before he pulled away.

"Hello…" Martin replied, positively beaming at her as his voice pitched somewhere between pleasant surprise and absolute pleasure; still glowing enough to set off the red in his hair, Martin rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, and inspected Deborah in such a way that made her heart lurch, and hot flutters tear through her chest, despite her refusal to acknowledge them, "What are you doing here?"

"I was out and about, fancied a break." Deborah remarked nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders and cocking her head to the side, taking care to glance carelessly about the pub at the other punters; even if he was going to see through her act, she couldn't allow him to think that his little plan was working. She had the upper hand.

"In a pub?" Martin inquired, smirking slightly as his eyebrows dipped sarcastically; he hummed and pursed his lips as Deborah broke his eye contact, playfully leaning a little closer to her as he clasped his hands together in front of him, "My pub that I go to every lunchtime that I'm on a van job in Fitton?"

"Oh, you've got me." Deborah exclaimed dramatically, rolling her eyes and pressing her hands over her chest; as Martin scoffed through his nose, she reached around to dip into her bag, and pull out a plastic take-away box that she had filled with sandwiches, made just the way Martin liked them, "I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you a little midday snack."

"Really? Wow…thank you…" Martin grinned some more as he took the box from her, passing it from hand to hand as if touched by the gesture; the way that he was looking at her, gooey eyed, was nice, and Deborah could only smile back at him until his expression shifted, and he narrowed his eyes fondly at her, "Hold on. If that was actually why you were here you'd have said it last." he noted; Martin rocked back on his heels and asked suspiciously, "How's your day been?"

"So boring!" Deborah groaned, rolling her head back in exasperation before she sighed and pouted at him; this was mostly the truth, and as close to honesty as she was willing to get without letting him know the exact reason for her presence, "I need you to entertain me."

"I see." Martin replied, nodding smugly, probably imagining all the ways that she had been pining for him since their last flight; he glanced around them before pointing towards a table in the corner of the pub, tucked away from the bar and the door, "Let's go over here."

Deborah followed Martin over to the table, and the next few minutes were spent fussing over the food that she had brought, with Martin aw-ing over how good it tasted, and Deborah giving in to his insistence that she eat to, though she took the smallest piece and proceeded to pick at it while trying not to think too hard on how good it felt to have Martin snatching peeks at her, making no effort to hide the smile that refused to fade from his face. It was lovely, and it had been a long, long time since the two of them had just sat down and been in each other's company.

"So…" Deborah broke the silence that was beginning to fall between them, stretching her arms and folding them on the table top, leaning forwards conspiratorially; so long as they kept it jovial and pleasant, there was no need for any awkwardness to emerge, "how has your day been?"

"Good, um…" Martin trailed off and blew through pursed lips as he lowered the hand that had been raising part of a sandwich to his lips, and shrugged nonchalantly; he had always been sparse when talking about Icarus, but seemed to be encouraged somewhat by his good mood, "yeah, it's been fine."

"Yes?" Deborah pushed, quirking an eyebrow, and not entirely feigning interest; she had no particular fascination with the intricacies of carting around furniture, but she did want to listen to Martin talk about anything, something that she had only just been able to do in recent weeks thanks to their renewed proximity.

"Well, i-it's a job." Martin continued, shrugging and clearing his throat awkwardly, taking then losing eye contact as he bumbled; Deborah mused that perhaps it wasn't helping him to have her gazing indulgently at him, blinking slowly, but couldn't bring herself to stop, "I don't know, it's uh…the people have been polite, the furniture is heavy…that's it-"

"Are you sure that's all?" Deborah inquired, fluttering her eyelashes at him; she was rather enjoying this, letting her warm smile settle into place as if it were meant to be there indefinitely, "Nothing fun to tell me?"

"Apart from this?" Martin retorted, waving his hand between the two of them, the contented grin sneaking back without his notice, joined by a lower register in his voice; all that Deborah could report was the pleasant rippling through her chest that made the tips of her fingers tingle, "No…everything's been dull and boring and I'm already considering clawing my eyes out for some sort of entertainment."

"Hmmm." Deborah hummed in acknowledgement, quirking her eyebrows seriously and smirking as she extended her hand to push the remainders of the sandwiches towards him, "Flying blind might be a challenge, but I suppose if we practiced, we could come up with some sort of system."

"Like blind man's bluff." Martin agreed brightly, apparently sufficiently distracted enough now to pluck the food from the table and consume it without his usual worry; he grinned even wider as he verified, "With you telling me which way to turn?"

"Oh, of course." "Deborah remarked wryly, feeling her own smile increase at the sight of the charming little pinch of Martin's features as he indulged in a bit of rule-breaking fantasy and attempted a joke; she had always loved him the most when they were like this, "Up a bit, down a bit, don't press that, oh dear, now we're crashing."

That had Martin releasing a hearty chuckle which inevitably dissolved into a giggle, just as Deborah found herself unable to stop the same from happening to, lulled into it by the precious tickling in her throat that pulled the sound right from her chest.

"Yeah…I can't see the CAA being too happy with that either." Martin giggled, his eyes glittering as he beamed at Deborah, leaning back comfortably in his seat; it was a lovely sight, that Deborah was sure had her blushing despite her best efforts, "I'd have to wear sunglasses on every flight just to stop them from noticing"

"I'm game if you are." Deborah drawled salaciously, feeding off of the tail end of the marvellous buzz that laughter made bubble up inside of her; it was hard to look away from Martin as he chuckled again and drew his bottom lip between his teeth, as an edge of coyness slipped into his expression, and he seemed to narrow his sights onto her and her alone.

But she did look away, and for a while they talked with the energy of a wall slowly crumbling in various directions, eventually lapsing into another strained quiet; it was nice to be with him, but Deborah was also aware that the longer she stayed, the more difficult it would become to stop herself from simply staring and nodding and enjoying the illusion of togetherness.

"You know, if you're really bored, then y-you could help me with the rest of the job." Martin suggested after a while, clearing his throat and biting down on his bottom lip as he stared at the now empty glass that he held between his palms, "It's only a few shelves now, so, you wouldn't even need to lift anything heavy. I-I mean if you want to."

A few months before, and Deborah might have taken him up on the offer; now, she might have taken him up on the offer, mildly attracted by the chance to spend the rest of the day in Martin's company. Except, just like when a cloud passes over the sun and blocks out the heat, Deborah found herself frozen at Martin's request, as it hit her that this was exactly what she was rebelling against; just because the rest of her was longing to follow him anywhere, didn't mean that her mind was going to obey, no matter how much it made her want to grit her teeth.

"Um…it's a nice offer, but I think I'll pass." Deborah replied, her voice coming out far too politely for her liking, as she pulled her bag onto her lap, the universal sign for a hasty exit; the light behind Martin's eyes seemed to flicker, and his smile fell as he nodded quickly, "This was nice, but, um…I should leave you to it."

"Sure…thanks for this, this was, it was good of you." Martin remarked hastily, clumsily extracting himself from behind the table as Deborah drearily rose to her feet, standing back and waiting for him to brush down his clothes and straighten his coat before he turned back to her, "You're um…"

"I'm what?" Deborah asked when Martin didn't finish his sentence; she knew that she should just leave it, but somehow she still managed to clutch her bag in one hand and blink nervously up at him, waiting for an answer that she shouldn't have needed to hear.

"It doesn't matter." Martin muttered quickly, shaking his head and plastering on a twisted smile that couldn't have fooled the simplest of minds; immediately, any lightness in Deborah's mood evaporated, and was replaced by a clagging cloud of regretful resignation, "I should get going."

"Yeah…" Deborah agreed, trying not to grimace as she nodded and pulled her arms over her chest; it shouldn't have been so easy for them to just ruin things so quickly, not when the moment before had been so pleasant, and good, and as close to happy as they got nowadays.

They walked side by side from the pub, not really speaking to each other, caught in what seemed like an endless loop of awkward quiet followed by the urge to speak, sideways glances and a lapse back into silence when they were caught; Deborah wasn't sure how she was feeling, or even if she was feeling, about the tickling at the back of her neck that made her suspect that Martin's eyes were cutting trails over her face. Whenever she looked, his eyes flickered away, but the tentative smile lingered somewhat, as if he had been thinking something pleasant; Deborah didn't have the gall to try and tease it out of him.

When they reached the side of Martin's van, which Deborah had parked next to the moment that she had seen it in the car park, she turned to say something, to make some sort of harried farewell, but was stopped in her tracks as Martin darted down and pressed his lips to hers.

It wasn't a hurried or a particularly forceful kiss, just a light gesture, gentle, with Martin lacing the tip of his fingers through her hair and stroking the back of his knuckles down her cheek, but he lingered, and Deborah was so thrown by the rush of affection and longing that flooded her chest, that all she could do to stop from melting was to kiss back, as her hands moved of their own will to drift past his chest and over his shoulders, gripping lightly as her mind was drowned in thoughts of Martin and closeness and just pressing her lips back against his.

But her mind caught up with the rest of her, and Deborah broke away from the kiss, placing her hands flat on Martin's chest and leaning back; he leaned away from her without a single question or indignant retort, and his hands even hovered a few inches away from where they had been caressing as Martin's eyes searched hers beneath imploringly dipped eyebrows.

"Martin, I said no." Deborah sighed, adding a little pressure behind her hands before Martin nodded quickly and stepped back, allowing her to drop them; even though his sad little pout and the sag of her shoulders filled her with the irrational desire to apologise to him, Deborah inhaled sharply and stood by her principles, "I meant it."

"I'm sorry." Martin replied swiftly, shaking his head and visibly steeling himself, moving himself as if to pace, keeping a distance between them; then his expression pinched and he sagged even more if possible as he turned to meet Deborah's eye, his tone more annoyed at himself than at her, "It's just sometimes, it's almost like you're saying yes. I'm sorry, I'll just-"

"Hold on, Martin." Deborah instructed, lurching forwards and grabbing at his elbow when Martin started to turn and walk away; now she felt bad for crushing him when all he was doing was with good intentions, because he cared too much and didn't understand why it was better this way, "Stop saying sorry, I don't mind. It's sweet of you."

"That's why I keep trying." Martin sighed, shrugging helplessly and letting his arms flop at his sides; Deborah didn't know how to fix the dreary edge to his eternal hopefulness, and could only force herself to ignore the wad at the back of her throat, "Because you actually seem to want me to."

"I don't - " Deborah tried to retort, but caught herself, pursing her lips as she tried to think of the best way to let him down; except, Martin was watching her, red cheeked, waiting rapt with attention for her to tell him the truth, so she did just that, accepting the prickle of guilt that settled on her shoulders as she wound her arms over her chest and stepped back to lean against the van, "Martin, I love you, of course I want to…be close to you."

That was the truth; god, Deborah longed to just give in and be with him, to just collapse into Martin and enjoy being together properly, but there were a thousand and one reasons why practically, that was a bad idea.

"But the constant asking and trying to kiss you bothers you." Martin remarked, grimacing as he nodded, grasping the wrong end of the stick as always; well, part of Deborah wished that he would stop trying, but the other part…Martin wouldn't be Martin if he wasn't pedantic and stubborn and ever gave up.

"No, it doesn't bother me, it's nice." Deborah insisted, stopping herself before she could reach out and take his hand; Martin's eyes on her incited the fluttering in her chest, which was enough to remind her of what she was supposed to be doing, for their own good, "But I'm making a rational decision here, to not let us be in a relationship, and…and that…it doesn't help."

This was progression, but not in the direction that either of them wanted to go, if the churning in her guts, or the crinkling of the bridge of Martin's nose were any indication of the effect that it was having.

"Deborah, you want to be with me." Martin replied matter-of-factly, but she didn't think for a moment that he was pushing, simply stating what he felt to be true; Deborah couldn't fault him for that, nor the faint frown that marred his features, making the lovely flush die down, "What's the point in denying that?"

"I'm not denying that." Deborah said softly, taking care to look Martin in the eye as he shifted uncomfortably; the arms around her chest kept her from doing the same, "I'm simply saying no, and I want you to respect that."

"I do respect that, that's why I'm asking instead of just taking or throwing myself at you." Martin told her, his eyes widening imploringly, gesticulating in the same way that he did when he was insisting that they should do things by the book instead of improvising, "That, just now…" he waved a hand between them, the blush returning momentarily to his cheeks when he saw Deborah glance away, then back at him, "I'm sorry, I'm just getting a lot of mixed messages."

"That's because the messages are mixed." Deborah insisted, pressing her lips together tightly and inwardly groaning as she tried to make him understand; she pushed a hand through her hair as she once again went to step towards him and close the gap, but held back, not that Martin didn't notice the movement, "Martin, no matter what messages I send you, or how positively I might respond to you sweeping down and kissing me…I need you to understand that my answer will always be no, even if my willpower breaks down."

"So even if you kiss me back, that's still a no?" Martin inquired, raising an eyebrow tentatively as he swung on his heel, holding back from closing the gap for her, as he had been about to do, instead digging his hands into his pockets.

"Yes, because you could kiss me one day, and I might just not stop you, and I still won't want to be in a relationship with you. " Deborah explained, praying that she didn't sound as weak and desperate as she thought that she did as she blinked up at Martin; this was tantamount to revealing her kryptonite, presenting her weaker facets in a way that she never had before.

But the lying and prevaricating had ruined so much in her life, and even though it made Deborah feel as if she were choking on a hard lump in her throat, she couldn't let what she and Martin had crumble beyond recognition; Martin could be trusted, she did trust him, more than anyone in the world save perhaps Arthur…which made it that much harder to force a wedge between them.

"Why?" Martin asked, cocking his head to the side; the pang of dejection was almost tangible in a cloud around him, filling the space between his van and her car.

"Because I…I…" Deborah wasn't sure what she could say, and gaped for a moment before clamping her mouth shut and shrugging helplessly, extracting her arms to extend into the air either side of her; she wanted to be honest, but when asked to vocalise…there were so many excuses for not taking him back, but there was no way to elucidate the aching pang in her chest that longed to give in, but was deathly afraid of failure.

"No, it's okay, you don't have to tell me." Martin remarked wryly, running a hand over the back of his neck as he frowned dejectedly; no, that wasn't what she wanted him to be feeling, not at all, "But, I-I'm still going to ask every now and again, just in case you change your mind."

"Sure." Deborah agreed quietly, attempting a wan, wobbly smile as Martin blushed bashfully; she cursed her lack of willpower, but couldn't stand the idea of Martin ever stopping, especially now that he had made his mind up, even though she wouldn't say yes…shouldn't ever say yes, for their own sakes, "One can never have too many reminders that they're…"

"Loved?" Martin concluded for her, before Deborah could flounder; his faint smile began to lift into an almost imperceptible smirk, and Deborah felt the flutters in her chest, as if they were dragging her down instead of lifting her up, apparently aware that her brain was rebelling against the rest of her.

"Yes. Exactly." Deborah nodded, swallowing back anything that she might have said; it was only then that she realised she had been pressing back against his van, so leaned away from it, adding hastily, pandering to the ache in her chest, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's your decision." Martin assured her, batting a hand through the air; then he paused, and drew his bottom lip through his teeth, cheeks going ever redder as he looked into her eyes, "Can I…could I…just once more?" he motioned towards her, and Deborah realised what he was implying with a rush of warm affection, and a little trepidation regarding her own resolve, "It's just – I might not get to do it again for a while."

She should have said no; Deborah knew that giving in would only make it harder when he either left, or things fell apart again, but it was too alluring an offer for her to turn down.

"Okay." Deborah breathed, just as Martin's expression began to fell, and he turned as if to walk past her and towards the front of the van; as his eyes traced over her face, Deborah was nearly bowled over by the shivers that rushed through her veins, letting her know that whatever she wanted logically, there was no way her psyche was going to let her turn back now.

"Really?" Martin replied, eyes widening in surprise; having seen how determined he had been the past few weeks, Deborah was a little surprised herself at the shock that he was exuding, as if even a shred of success was unheard of.

"Yes, but only one." Deborah told him, taking a deep breath and adopting a more authoritative pose, pointing confidently up at him despite the whirring in her guts; the smirk on Martin's face was enough to make one creep faintly onto her own lips, "That's it."

Martin didn't need any more confirmation before he lurched towards her, and before Deborah could fully register what was happening, she was being swept up by a wonderful rush of heat that spread through every pore and roared in her chest, as Martin's lips crashed into hers and his arms wrapped around her and they thudded back into the side of the van, her arms around his shoulders, both sets of hands moving as Martin kissed her harder and deeper and the chasteness of before was replaced by a determination that left barely a scrap of air between the two of them.

It was perfect, and brilliant, and Deborah could have tumbled a hundred-fold times into the pleasant void that was Martin and the sensation of his hair, his shoulders, his back, beneath her hands, his hands grasping at every inch of her that wasn't already tight against him or the cold side of the van.

Then Martin tried to pull away, but Deborah didn't let him, tugging him back to her the moment she felt his lips closing and leaving hers; then they were back where they were supposed to be, wrapped in each other, little noises that Deborah couldn't quite place rumbling through one or both of their chests, as part of her mind remarked that this was the stupidest place they had ever done anything, and she just kept kissing him over and over and longer and more intense, and if she didn't stop running her hands up and over his chest, she'd be tearing Martin's shirt from him, but she couldn't care to stop herself.

"Stop…" Martin broke away, barely, leaning his head where she couldn't reach it, though he was still hot and flushed against her, holding her close, his chest heaving in time with hers as he ran his eyes over her face, and his tongue darted out from between his lips.

"But-" Deborah started breathily, inhaling and exhaling at a heightened pace, head whirling and barely able to think straight, unable to work out why he was telling her to stop when this is what he had wanted the whole time.

"You said one, and I'm respecting that." Martin explained, and he slowly but surely loosened his hold on her, slipping his hands away to step back, leaving Deborah to slump back against the van, watching him straighten his coat with wide eyes, "Your willpower might not be up to scratch, but I can hold back if you want me to."

Oh…Deborah could have kissed him all over again, and just that thought made little cartwheels flitter through the messy wash of mixed emotions that were spinning through her; as perfect as it felt now, she would regret leading him on, indulging him, against all of her protestations. There was a reason she didn't want them to get tangled up again, and even though she couldn't articulate it, Martin was doing the decent thing, and respecting that.

Just one more reason to add to the list of rationalities that were piling up against her decision; she'd ignore them all if she had to.

"Thank you." Deborah replied softly, tugging her arms around her chest and plastering on a grateful smile, trying not to look too soppy, not that Martin would have noticed, as he was scuffing his feet and watching the dust pile up on the ground; she couldn't push it, she reminded herself, he might be leaving soon, if that offer ever came through, "I don't deserve you…you should find someone who's decent and kind instead."

"I think you're fine." Martin retorted, sounding only a little regretful as he lifted his head and met her gaze; it was impossible to doubt his sincerity, and Deborah didn't particularly want to.

Then nothing; with only the minimal amount of fuss and farewells, Martin made his way to the driver's seat of his van, and Deborah slipped into her car, the both of them lingering and exchanging tentative glances as they said goodbye, and then headed their separate ways.

With things the way that they were, there was little else that they could do; Deborah could move on and go home to wallow in her misery, or she could beg Martin to come back.

The latter wasn't an option at all.

I'm not sure about this, and it seemed a bit clunky to write, but nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed it