Thank you very much for everyone who's been reading and reviewing, you're all great. Here's the next chapter, better than the last
Chapter 45
It had been a month and a half, or near enough, since Martin had attended the interview in Yverdon-Les-Bains, and Deborah had yet to hear a single word about it; Martin was unusually quiet about it, and simply shrugged and smiled and moved the conversation onto safer grounds whenever it was brought up, so she had eventually stopped asking, if only to make him feel better.
Deborah could recognise Martin's defensive and avoidant techniques anywhere, and for once was prepared not to try and tease him back into a good mood, as the subject matter happened to be one that upset her as well as him. But, contrary to the mantra that 'no news is good news', she was well aware that the longer the gaps in communication, the lesser the chance that Martin was going to be accepted by Swiss Air.
Which meant that now, the chances of him leaving were slim to none; an unpleasant weight off of Deborah's chest on the one hand, and a troubling realisation on the other. Now that the threat of Martin's absence no longer hung over her, her resolve to veer away from an actual relationship was deteriorating, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to stop it.
Of course, there were other reasons, a few that she couldn't even identify herself, but now that she was almost certain she wouldn't have to say goodbye to him for his own good, Deborah couldn't help thinking that there was nothing wrong with being happy, just for a while, just because the both of them were longing for it. They might break down again, later, but that didn't mean they couldn't relish now, did it?
There was no doubt about whether Martin was still interested, as even though he had dulled down his efforts since their run in at the pub in Fitton, he still hadn't given up; there were no more gestures or attempts to pop out of nowhere and catch her by surprise, which only helped to make Deborah's resolve weaken even more.
"Post Take-off checks complete?" Martin had asked as they had made it into the air on a flight to Montreal, flicking the switches and leaning over just enough that he could flick his eyes over what Deborah was doing.
"Yes Captain." Deborah had replied cheerfully, in one of the rare good moods that had been returning like intermittent summer rain over the past few weeks; she had smiled fleetingly as she leaned back in her seat and hooked one ankle over the other, getting comfortable, "And clear skies all the way, so I plan to sit back and not touch a thing while you dutifully fulfil your role as Captain and entertain me."
"Oh, of course, because that's what I'm here for." Martin had retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes and raising a hand to push his hat ever so slightly lower on his head; after a few moments in which Deborah smiled and batted her eyelashes playfully at him, Martin dragged his bottom lip through his teeth and asked, "On a lighter note…would you mind, I-uh, I mean, would you like, to consider taking me back as your boyfriend and or partner? Maybe? If you're feeling up to it?"
"Wow…you asked so nicely." Deborah had drawled, unable to keep her lips from curling upwards as a fluttering warmth spread through her chest and lit up her expression, and she turned to find that Martin was looking about the same, shy but in a good mood; by that point she couldn't feel annoyed or pressured, and wanted desperately to say yes, even as her resolve began to fade, "But I'm afraid my answer is still no."
"Oh, okay." Martin had sighed, trailing his gaze once more over her face, his expression filled with nothing but fondness and contentedness; he turned back to the control panel without another word, and left it at that.
Deborah knew that he was going to ask again at some point, but then, she had simply proposed a new game, and the rest of the flight had passed peacefully, with a minimal amount of fuss being caused when Arthur arrived to try and convince them that they should ambush (in a friendly way) their passenger, who happened to be a journalist, and get her to write an article about MJN.
Today though, Deborah was still in a good mood, having sat through a pleasant flight in which they only had cargo to contend with, and Arthur milling around in the jump-seat, trying to guess what it was that Martin had written on a post-it and stuck to his head. He had been bright enough to guess straight away that Martin's 'thing' was something to do with aviation, but after that, even with Deborah's prompting, he still hadn't been able to guess which not-so-famous historical figure Martin had elected.
Martin had insisted that he had won as a result, and as Arthur bumbled around in the Galley, Deborah had argued that no, the point was to pick someone guess-able, and the fact that Arthur could never have guessed meant that he was disqualified.
That particular debate had ended with Martin chuckling deviously as he held Deborah's hat away from her, having 'confiscated' it on the basis that he believed the hats were the most important parts of their jobs, and Deborah giggling faintly, unable to hinder the smile on her face or the warmth in her chest as she gazed affectionately across at Martin's antics, obediently doing as he asked as if in a trance while he sorted out the landing with Karl.
It was days like this that reminded Deborah why she had ever fallen for Martin in the first place, despite her misgivings; having fun with Martin was the best feeling in her world at the moment…and just like that, cradled by the knowledge of how much she loved him, even more than that, any decision that she had made might not have existed for how quickly it slipped through her fingers.
So once they had landed, and Martin set about giving Arthur instructions regarding getting out and sorting the cargo, Deborah stayed where she was, sitting back in her seat, her turned so that her cheek could lie against the padding, watching in silence as he moved here and there, just enjoying watching Martin be bossy and a little pedantic when Arthur suggested that he do things a 'better' way.
Then the flight-deck door clanged shut, and they were alone; Martin sagged back into his seat, letting his hands flop down to hang over the arms of his seat as he groaned contentedly and stretched out a bit like a tucked in cat relishing the afternoon sun. Seeing her chance, acting on an impulse that had been itching for hours now, Deborah turned her head away to run her eyes over the controls as they glinted in the light, and felt her limbs stiffen with tension as she picked anxiously at the loose threads on the arms of her seat.
"Martin?" Deborah announced her intentions tentatively, making sure to keep the corner of her eyes on Martin, whilst maintaining steady and calm breaths as her lungs seemed to clench and unclench in trepidation.
"Hmmm?" Martin responded with a rumbling hum, turning to face her, brushing the back of his head against his seat in such a way that it made his hat tip and tilt atop his neatly piled ginger hair; the light in his eyes was innocent and unassuming, which was enough to spur Deborah on, though not enough to make her hold his gaze for longer than a second.
"You um…you know that thing, that you've been…bothering me about?" Deborah inquired, aiming for nonchalance, curling a careless hand through the air and swallowing away the dizzy fluttering in her chest; beside her, she almost felt Martin shifting and straightening and paying attention, "Is the offer still open?"
"Yeah…" Martin replied, his voice so breathy and filled with what might have been wonder, that it had Deborah turning to look him over properly; she had to catch her breath as she took in the way that he was turned almost all the way in his seat, gripping the arm, his eyes wide and his mouth agape.
"Could I, ahem, could I perhaps…" Deborah cut herself off, shaking her head and pursing her lips in personal disdain; not that Martin was hindered, his expression hopeful, which was enough to make it harder to breathe, but also put a flicker of determination in her guts, "would you mind terribly if I wanted to…um…to take you up on it?"
"Y-y-you, you want me back?" Martin asked, as if he could barely believe his ears; he made no move closer, or further, and Deborah was grateful for his stunned restraint, as it allowed the whirling inside of her to settle somewhat, "You actually-"
"Yes…" Deborah replied faintly, unable to hide the small, bashful smile that crept unbidden onto her lips as Martin's face lit up, and his cheeks filled with a shining blush; her eyes flickered down to trace the threads that she was pulling at all the more urgently, "if you'll still have me."
"I-I-I will, I mean, I-I-I do!" Martin exclaimed, letting out what sounded like a long held breath as a reedy, nervous sort of laugh escaped his lungs; his smile was bright, and Deborah found that it was impossible to break the hold that his eyes had on hers, even as the bridge of his nose crinkled, "W-what's brought this on?"
"I love you." Deborah replied, shrugging helplessly at Martin's bewildered, and flattered expression, as his smile turned into a grin and just kept growing; the weight on her chest was whirring and roaring, and just waiting to be ejected, "I just love you."
"Yeah, I-I uh, I-I-I, yes." Martin spluttered, apparently unable to string together a whole sentence as he leaned over the arm of his seat, his knuckles white where he gripped it; his eyes were darting this way and that, and he gasped, "Yes – I-I, oh god, are you sure?"
"Quite sure." Deborah remarked faintly, still and calm, and the complete opposite to Martin's jittering mess, letting the warm glow from her chest ripple through her and light up the smile on her face as she cherished the unrestrained joy on Martin's face; she couldn't fight it anymore, she needed him so much.
Martin's face split into a picture of complete and utter thrill, and he let out another nervous, joyous chuckle as if he couldn't believe his ears, reaching out across the gap between them; Deborah's hand rose to meet his, and she couldn't even care that it ached as he clasped their fingers together.
"I love you." Martin sighed a groan that got caught up in another bemused chuckle as he shook his head, pressing his eyes closed before meeting her gaze; he startled as if he were about to stand, or bridge the space between them, but Deborah tugged on his hand, keeping him seated.
"No, stay there." Deborah instructed softly, extracting her hand from Martin's grasp, and ignoring his curious watch as she rose from her seat, fighting down a grin as she crossed the space between them and hoisted herself onto Martin's lap, into his waiting arms which wrapped around her and pulled her close without a second thought.
With her legs hanging through the gaps underneath the arms of the seat, Martin's arms and hands curling and squeezing and embracing as much of her as he could while Deborah wrapped her arms around her neck, allowing her head to fall down next to his, tucking their cheeks together, snuggling her nose in against the crook of Martin's neck, inhaling him while she was sure that he was doing the same to her, it was the most wonderful Deborah had felt in months.
This, being held together, chests rising and falling where they were pressed together, with Martin murmuring nonsense into her hair as his hands carded through it, then down her back, Deborah was enveloped in the rush of warmth that surged in her chest, then tore through the rest of her until her eyes almost watered with the overwhelming rightness of it all, this was better than any stolen kisses or near misses.
How Deborah could have ever denied herself this, kept away from Martin, she didn't know; she didn't know when it had happened, or how, but Martin had become an integral piece of her, and she ached at the thought of extracting herself from the secure and tight, almost painful hold that he had her in.
"Oh, god, I love you." Martin murmured into her hair, tucking her around him as best he could; his voice sounded as if he might be on the verge of tears, or about to burst into song, "I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you too, Martin." Deborah chuckled weakly, as she leaned back, allowing some space to come between them as she looked into Martin's eyes; their foreheads were almost touching, and Deborah's hair was a mess, a visible frame on the peripheries of her vision, but she couldn't find it in her to care, as she propped herself up with one hand on the back of the seat behind Martin's head, and the other brushing past his cheek, "Come here."
With that, Deborah ducked down and pressed her lips to his, and Martin responded eagerly, curling one hand around to stroke down her back, and the other to wind through her hair and stroke over and around her face, pulling her close enough that they could both tip their heads, and Deborah could appreciate the flooding rush of absolutely magnificent lightness that soared through her veins, and cherish the feel of his shoulder shifting under the hand that wasn't still on the back of his chest, and his lips moving slowly but surely around and against and between hers.
There was nothing hurried or rushed about it this time; they simply fell into each other, and Deborah thought that it felt like toppling off of a precipice into a pit of the best feeling in the world, a brilliant, perfect shining light.
"This is completely unprofessional, and-" Martin pulled back, gasping for breath as Deborah grinned and brushed the tip of her nose against his; he was still beaming, so there was nothing to worry about, not as his chest was rumbling with restrained laughter.
"Shhh…" Deborah shushed him, and ducked down for another kiss, squeezing his shoulder playfully; the moment was so beautifully routine, except for the location and their positions, that she couldn't help herself.
Martin didn't seem deterred, and within moments they were kissing again, properly, wrapped around each other and just relishing being together again; Deborah couldn't help but grin against Martin's lips as he tugged her closer, and she allowed herself to simply enjoy it as she pushed her hand through his hair, knocking the hat from atop his head, pushing away any negative thoughts that might have been lingering from before.
They stayed like that for a while, not that Deborah could keep track of the seconds, just kissing and holding each other close; there was no rush, no sense that they needed to hurry up and get things done, no need to do anything more than just relax and cherish the pleasant tingles that ran up through her veins and to the tips of her fingers.
Then the flight-deck door swung open, and Deborah barely had time to lean back and detach herself from Martin's lips, highly aware of the fact that she was sitting wrapped in Martin's arms on his lap; Martin's only response was to make a startled sound, and clench his fingers more tightly as they fell to her legs instead of pushing her away as he struggled to peer over the back of his seat.
"Oh – I'm sorry!" the door clanged shut almost immediately after it opened, and Arthur's voice echoed through it, "Mum told me to come and get you."
Martin's head snapped back around, and his eyebrows darted to his hairline as he glared desperately at her; even so, he didn't make any effort to move or let go of her, simply silently demanding that she do something.
"Tell her we'll be there in a bit." Deborah called, letting the tension fade from her limbs as she dropped her hand from the back of the seat and around Martin's shoulders, smiling down at him as he rolled his eyes.
"Oh, um…the thing about that…" Arthur replied cautiously through the door, "is that, I'm really glad you're back together, and it's brilliant – but um, Mum said that she didn't want to see me back unless I had you both with me, so…you sort of need to come now."
Deborah rolled her eyes and tipped her head back, cursing Carolyn and her terrible timing; as she sat back, putting a few inches between her and Martin, he smiled and shifted so that they weren't quite so slumped, and turned his head to call out to her despair.
"We're coming now Arthur, just give us two minutes."
oOoOoOo
She hadn't meant to look, it was just a thing that they did, a force of habit; if one member of the crew left their emails open, then whoever came across it, before they turned the computer off, checked to see if there were any messages and alerted those concerned if there was anything of importance.
It was just a thing that they did, and Deborah hadn't even thought about it as she swept past their desks and span the laptop around, running her eyes over Martin's recent messages to check that his family hadn't contacted him while they had been being lectured by Carolyn. She was about to turn the device off for him when in the middle of the list the words Swiss Air stuck out and caught her attention, tagged only a few days before.
The temptation to read it had been irresistible, even as the sinking in her guts began before she had placed her fingers on the scroll pad; now, it felt like the giddy contentedness that had settled over her was frozen, halted and on standby, waiting for the other foot to fall. Not the clammy, itching, angst ridden mess of before…no, this was like a mute button, leaving only a dull ache and a reeling mind as Deborah began fitting things into place.
The door to the porta-cabin cracked, jammed, and then swung open just as Deborah was pushing down the lid of Martin's laptop, and even though she could hear Martin humming as he wandered past the coat rack, and then towards her, she remained propped up, both arms outstretched on the desk, head down, for a moment before she turned to face him.
"Why didn't you tell me that you got the job at Swiss Air?" Deborah demanded dryly, pressing her lips together, wrapping her arms around her chest and forcing an ounce of composure as she glared him down; she didn't waver at the look of shock that stole over Martin's face.
"What?" Martin's voice came out as a sort of reedy squeak, and he dropped the papers that he had been in the process of stacking; Deborah simply raised her eyebrows, and his expression shifted, and his jaw set into the stubborn and proud image that she was so used to, "H-how do you-"
"Don't you get indignant with me; the company messaged you to ask whether you'd made a decision." Deborah snapped, pursing her lips and extracting an arm to point decisively at him, stopping Martin in his tracks; she wasn't quite angry, but there was something there, flaming and roaring in her guts and keeping the pang in her chest from dragging her down, "You've just spent weeks trying to get me to agree to a relationship with you, all the while knowing that you'd be leaving come June."
"No – n-no, that's not – that's not what I've been doing at all." Martin stuttered, shaking his head and raising his hands as if in surrender; Deborah narrowed her eyes, prepared to listen to him, but not to pander, "I've been trying to get you back because I love you, and I want you back."
"But you've got the job Martin!" Deborah raised her voice, enunciating loud and clear as she glared him down, leaning away from the desk, refusing to use it to support herself as she inhaled sharply and squared her shoulders.
"No, I haven't, not until I agree to take it." Martin argued, standing facing her, his hands clenching at his side as he adopted his trademark proud and prissy posture; this wasn't something that he could talk his way out of, and Deborah wanted answers, something to make up for the lies that she had been drinking in for weeks now.
"Which you haven't done yet!" Deborah reminded him, doing nothing to soften the edge in her tone, even as Martin winced imperceptibly at the accusation; she knew that he was an idiot, but this went far beyond his usual specs, actually risking his future happiness, "Why not? Why this whole charade?"
"It's not a charade!" Martin barked, clamping his mouth shut as his cheeks flared red with exertion, and he jolted as if to pace, only to stop and force himself to face her; he may have had his own brand of logic, but it wouldn't cut it this time.
"You've been telling me that you probably won't get it." Deborah remarked, controlling her tone of voice and focusing on keeping herself held together, fuelled by the irritation flaring inside of her; it wasn't like when they fought and were apart, this was more centred, as if stating that they were together somehow made it easier to put him in his place and demand information, "But I see now that was just a lie to try and get me back on side-"
"No, it wasn't a lie-" Martin insisted agitatedly, shaking his head quickly; he took a deep breath and looked back to her, extending his hands and gazing imploringly into Deborah's eyes, "I just knew that if you knew, you'd make me go and you wouldn't even consider being with me!"
"And now that I've taken you back?" Deborah asked, quirking an eyebrow pointedly at him, making sure to keep her glare heated and demanding; it didn't take much effort at all, and Martin's stubborn demeanour faltered.
"I'd have turned it down and told you they rejected me." Martin admitted, his eyes flickered down to the floor as he scuffed his feet, and shoved his hands into his pockets, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth as his cheeks flushed a lighter shade of pink; he sounded like a schoolboy justifying a misdemeanour, against all logical sense, but Deborah refused to be swayed, no matter how much it might have tugged at her heartstrings.
"And if I had refused to restart our relationship at all?" Deborah demanded, remaining stoic; when Martin didn't respond immediately, she snapped, raising a hand to click his fingers at him, drawing him back to the real world and away from whatever he was pouting at, "What would you have done Martin? Just left it and left it without replying?"
"No, I was holding on- waiting to see what you'd-" Martin began to explain, but Deborah cut him off, shaking her head; she'd heard enough excuses to last her a lifetime, and couldn't even begin to work out why Martin was lying. This was his entire future, his dream come true, and he was being as stubborn and ridiculous as he had ever been in the entirety of their years together; she never thought she'd see the day when she of all people was getting Martin to do what was best for him.
"You weren't doing much of anything!" Deborah interrupted him sharply, taking another deep breath to keep herself calm; she didn't want a fight, not when the happiness of earlier was still so fresh, "I know you Martin, the only reason that job's still hanging is in case I never said yes, and you decided to leave instead."
"I-I-I- yeah…yeah…I couldn't say yes, because there was a chance I might win you over, and I couldn't ask you to come with you." Martin replied, pulling his hands from his pockets and winding his fingers together; his throat bobbed awkwardly, and Deborah couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him, damn her soppy heart, "But I couldn't – I-I-I couldn't say no because-"
"Because it's a good offer." Deborah finished for him, letting the tension leave her shoulders, as her arms fell to her sides, and she sighed, because when it really came down to it, she knew Martin inside out; that made it very difficult to be mad at him, yet the cloying in her chest hadn't quite returned, "It's a better offer. It's your dream job."
"Yeah…" Martin agreed, frowning at himself and rocking on his heels, refusing to look her in the eye as he sighed and stepped sideways, bringing himself closer to her, so that he could lean back against the desk, "I've been…thinking…"
"Procrastinating." Deborah corrected him, which was enough to get Martin to look at her, and for his eyebrows to dip in bewilderment; she quirked her eyebrows, and, giving in to the little voice in the back of her head, mirrored his movements, settling back against the desk beside him, turning to face him head on, "That's what you've been doing Martin."
"Yeah…but that doesn't matter!" Martin exclaimed bitterly, throwing his hands weakly into the air and biting down on his bottom lip; Deborah could understand why he was frustrated, life had put them in a taxing position; but whereas he was trying to make the best out of everything, she could see when she was beaten, having experienced it enough already, "Look, w-we're together, w-we're better now, w-we're-"
"Not." Deborah interjected softly, reaching across to place a hand over Martin's wrist; his jitters receded, and he blinked petulantly at her, falling back on his old refusing to accept the state of affairs, his steadfast belief that he could alter the world through sheer force of will, "We're not anything Martin, because you're taking that job."
"No." Martin retorted, shaking his head, ignoring Deborah as she rolled her eyes.
"No?" Deborah repeated, unable to resist smirking, ever so slightly as a wash of affection that trickled through her chest, even as it merged with a pang of regret; she wasn't going to budge over this, "I don't understand why you didn't just take it to begin with!"
"B-because, I didn't want to, not, not right then." Martin explained wanly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck; it was only then that Deborah saw the strain, just how much keeping this information to himself had cost him, wearing him down, "I just, Arthur was talking, and I saw you, and I-I just, I couldn't stand the thought o-of not being with you, o-or of being so far away, a-and I-"
"Stop." Deborah sighed, closing her eyes, momentarily blocking out the world as she raised her hands in surrender; they couldn't do this anymore, it was making their lives miserable, and driving Martin mad, "Martin stop. We're not fighting over this."
"It sounds like we're fighting over this!" Martin retorted, folding his arms roughly over his chest, running his eyes over her face.
"No, no you're right. We were good – half an hour ago, we were good." Deborah remarked calmly, reaching out to hook her fingers under Martin's chin and bring him back when he tried to turn away; they needed to do this, "So I don't want to fight over this, I want to sit down, and have a proper conversation with you about why you're being such an idiot."
"I'm not an idiot-" Martin started to snap; then he paused, and his face slackened, and he slowly slipped his wrist from Deborah's grasp, nodding with his lips pressed tightly together, "I'm- Okay, fine, alright, let's talk."
"Not now." Deborah instructed him, fleetingly mourning the loss of contact as she watched his arm disappear back around his side, and swallowing back the first prickling of tentativeness; she needed to be strong for this, so that there would be no backing down, "Just…I'm going home. You, you go, and you get some Chinese, or whatever you fancy, and then come round mine, and we'll talk there."
"Right." Martin replied faintly, staring at her with an indecipherable expression on his face; then he nodded again, and spoke just as quietly, curling his hand and folding over to rest it over his mouth, taking up the defensive, "Sure, fine."
Deborah didn't wait for him to say anything else; she was still reeling, caught somewhere between stunned and let down, and needed to get outside and breathe the cold air of the early evening, clear her head. So without another word, she pushed away from the desk and strode across the room, plucking her coat from where she had dropped it on the sofa on her was over to the desks in the first place, before striding out of the door, leaving Martin to his thoughts.
oOoOoOo
Late into the evening, with the sky outside a dark wash of blue and purple, Deborah found herself perched on the edge of her sofa beside Martin, their knees barely inches from knocking together as the take-away he had picked up lay picked at and neglected on the coffee table.
They had been talking, or at least trying to, for the best part of two hours, and now the air of exhaustion and misery was almost tangible, a soft but sad taste on the comfortable ambiance, like a prickly yet blurred edge around the both of them, pivoting them together while making it hard to regain the heat of before.
"I don't have to take the job, Deborah." Martin remarked for what might have been the third time that night; he was sitting hunched forwards as he faced her, hands clenched together over his knees, his voice low, with any indignation and shrillness that he had stored up wasted and exhausted an hour beforehand, "I can stay here, I can stay with you."
"No, Martin, you can't." Deborah said once more, propped up as she was on her folded arms that lay across her thighs; she tilted her head forwards, enough that her hair fell oddly about her shoulders, and she could more easily meet his gaze, blinking sadly at him and the little frown that adorned his lips.
"Why not?" Martin almost groaned, his shoulders sagging as he turned his head where it hung and shifted his blue eyes up to meet hers; his hair was a mess from where he had been running his hands through it.
"Because you want this." Deborah explained plainly, careful not to let her expression waver; it wasn't even as if she was pretending to encourage him, as she really did want him to go, was proud of his achievements no matter how much it might hurt to lose him, "This job is everything you've ever dreamed about, and I'm not going to let you throw that away for the sake of staying with me."
"But I love you, I want to stay with you." Martin insisted, flattening and extending his palms fleetingly as he dragged his bottom lip through his teeth and bit down irritably; the desperation in his eyes wasn't hard to read, but it only made Deborah's chest ache for him all the more, and stiffened her resolve.
"And what about in a year, five years, or ten years even? What happens when you start to resent me for being the reason you lost the best offer you've ever been given?" Deborah demanded lightly, imploring him to understand; she shifted a little closer, reaching out to take his hand, then stopping before she could, "Because I promise you Martin, even if a bigger airline in Britain snaps you up in the future, it will never be as good as Swiss Air."
"I wouldn't resent you for that." Martin retorted wanly, pouting as if just saying it might make it true; chances were, he actually believed that, even if Deborah knew that he saw the world through a different spackled glass that she did.
"I think you would." Deborah replied; sighing deeply, she gave in to the pull of his eyes on hers, and slipped her hand across the slim gap between them, and curled her fingers over his where they clenched together, "Martin, darling, even if you don't, I'm not going to let you give this up."
"But I-" Martin started, spluttering weakly as he unwound his hands and turned one over beneath hers, his fingers curling reflexively around hers, no pressure, simply linking them; something akin to a warm fizzling puttered in her chest, but she couldn't allow herself to waver.
"Do you want the job at Swiss Air?" Deborah inquired softly, shifting a little closer as Martin turned into her, until their legs were pressed together side by side, and she had to tip her head back just a fraction to be able to look him in the eye.
"I want you." Martin answered matter-of-factly, the same mantra that he had been keeping up for weeks now; it wasn't good enough, he needed to get his head out of the sand and stop deluding himself, accept the reality that they were existing in.
"No, Martin, forget me for a moment." Deborah instructed, losing her calm for a split second as she closed her eyes and pursed her lips; inhaling slowly, she opened her eyes and held Martin's gaze, pointedly ignoring the stubborn flush of his cheeks, "Do you want the job at Swiss Air? With the structure, and the pay, and the best aeroplanes that you could ever get your hands on?"
"I could-" Martin started eagerly, his eyes lighting up, but Deborah cut him off.
"Martin!" Deborah scolded him, squeezing his hand sharply to drag him away from whatever insane suggestion he was about to throw at her.
"Yes!" Martin exclaimed, immediately looking stricken, as he scowled at her, at himself, and threw his free hand into the air; victory wasn't quite as sweet as it should have been, and Deborah could only smile wanly at him as he tore his hand through his hair, "Yes, I want it! Of course I want it!"
"Then you're going to accept that job, and you're going to go to Switzerland and take what you want." Deborah told him, placing her other hand over his, where they were already joined, stroking her thumb soothingly over his knuckles; this was best, "I'm not going to change my mind, not now that I know it's there for you."
"Why?" Martin croaked as his eyes darted over her face, his limbs sagging as he turned to grip her hands in return, bringing them even closer, until his elbow could have tucked into her side with no fuss; the watery edge to his eyes, and the slight shuddering of his breath felt like claws tickling at her guts.
"Because I love you." Deborah explained confidently, swallowing back any urge that she might have had to be moved to tears as she held onto him like an anchor, reminding her of what was really important, "Enough that I refuse to keep you here when you could be far happier and better off somewhere else."
"We were getting back together." Martin breathed thinly, his voice shaking with his breaths as tears threatened to well up in his eyes, stopped, it must have been, by pure willpower, as his hands vice-like around hers, "Earlier, we were so happy, and we were getting back together…"
"We are back together." Deborah corrected him, trying not to sniffle as she lifted their intertwined hands to her cheek, turning her head to press a small kiss to Martin's knuckles, "You won me over, Martin, you did it; you got me back."
"You said that we weren't anything." Martin muttered, looking down all of a sudden to watch the path of their hands back onto his knees; trust Martin to argue semantics over something he had been fighting for for weeks.
"That was wrong of me, I was angry." Deborah sighed, shaking her head and looking away to glance at the coffee table, a neutral object as Martin's eyes wandered back up to latch onto hers, "I'm not taking back what I said in the flight-deck. I love you too much…"
"Then I could stay and keep our relationship going-" Martin suggested eagerly, jolting as he shifted, like a god with a bone when he got an idea into his head.
"No, you couldn't." Deborah interjected, regretting how sharp that sounded the moment it left her lips and Martins' hopeful grimace fell; taking a deep breath, she let go of the niggle of agitation that had begun to sprout near the back of her mind, and instead decided that perhaps, if she was willing to try, she could make him see that it wasn't just the job that had been keeping them apart, "Martin, when you think of us, what are you imagining?"
"Us, in love, together, doing…the sort of thing that I thought we'd be doing tonight." Martin answered as if it were obvious, shrugging his shoulders and playing a little with her fingers; it wasn't obvious at all, and it brought to mind like a chilly reminder one of the many reasons that she had refused him to begin with.
There was nothing wrong with being in love, with being best friends, with wanting each other…but trying to get Martin to even consider the rest, despite all of his talk about commitment, was like pulling teeth….and it should never be that hard, not unless one party happens to be far more invested than the other.
"Anything else?" Deborah inquired faintly, blinking imploringly across at him, begging him to answer correctly; love and desire and friendship…anything else?...the important things…bickering over who would do the laundry?...deciding who would take the car at what times?...going to bed when one saw the other start to yawn? … building up a home together, arranging the furniture…important things?
Things that actually made a relationship? The future? Deborah thought about these things all the time, couldn't stop thinking about them when they had been together the first time, but Martin? Martin hadn't said a word.
If they stayed together, where would they live?…for how long?...how would they learn to navigate around each other?...what kind of flowers did they both like?...what names were they both fond of?...everything that Martin seemed unable to even imagine. The sort of things that might be worth abandoning a good job offer for.
"I-I l-like what?" Martin replied, the bridge of his nose crinkling in confusion; Deborah's heart fell, though she hadn't expected anything different; it wasn't a bad disappointment, even a flattering one, "You're my best friend and I love you, isn't that enough?"
"Martin…those things will still be true, even if you're in Switzerland." Deborah groaned, forcing herself to remain calm and gentle, to maintain the pressure on his hands, smiling sadly at him, countering the sad realisation on his own face; in the same moment, it occurred to her why that clagging dejection hadn't yet gripped her heart and made it hard to breathe, "You can't refuse your perfect job because of them."
"What?" Martin retorted, confused, but as if some strange, almost humorous realisation were dawning, "Are you suggesting we stay together, but long distance? Video calls and texting and occasional holidays in the same country?"
"Well, if I won't let you stay and waste your life, but neither of us can keep away from each other, then why not?" Deborah remarked, leaning in a little closer, almost conspiratorially, encouragingly, as she forced a hopefully, dewy eyes little smile; Martin leaned in in turn, letting his forehead rest against hers, tucking them together, closing his eyes while Deborah kept hers open, unable to let her guard down just yet, "But…if you were to meet someone else…"
"I won't." Martin stated firmly, not moving, not opening his eyes, simply gripping her hands more tightly and tucking his forehead more securely against hers, so that they could have been cuddled together on the sofa, were it not for the static nature of their posture, "There won't be anyone that I want more than you."
"Then our long-distance relationship will be just fine." Deborah managed to choke out a laugh, clinging to the little flicker of warm hope and affection as she cherished the tight grip that Martin had on her, determined as he was to keep her, no matter where he went.
"Do you really think we could do that?" Martin asked after a while, quietly, like his voice might shatter the peace; Deborah could only concentrate on the tickle as his fingers moved around hers, a pleasant rippled through her veins.
"It's a better alternative that you leaving and never speaking to me again, so yes…I think it could…work…" Deborah replied, trailing off as it became a little harder to believe herself; it hadn't occurred to her before today that they could hang onto each other from afar, but now that it was in her head, she couldn't let it go.
"I want to be with you." Martin sighed, opening his eyes; this close, he could gaze into hers and there was little chance of her looking away.
"You can be." Deborah assured him gently, leaning back enough that although their heads were still tucked together, their sides pressed up beside one another, she could untangle their hands and reassert a sense of seriousness about her expression, "Just…the job comes first."
Deborah wasn't sure how long the two of them sat like that, linked together, breathing in tandem and completely in sync, just as they had been hours beforehand in the flight-deck; she didn't want to ever let go of that feeling, so as she focused on Martin's breath, ghosting across her cheeks, she told herself over and over that it wouldn't fade just because they were miles apart. She hadn't stopped loving him when they went on solo flights, why should this be any different…she was losing her touch…
"So now what?" Martin sounded tired, exhausted really, and so sad that Deborah wanted to wrap her arms around him and just make it better, somehow…but there was also an edge of acceptance there, and just like magic, Deborah felt the trepid weight on her chest flutter away, replaced by the steadfast knowledge of what was.
And the lingering hum of a pleasant tune, like a light allowed to shine through what had previously been night; Martin was there, and they were together, in a way, and merely hours before Deborah would have climbed mountains just to let him have her.
"Well…we're back together, in a way…" Deborah remarked in not quite a drawl, as she leaned a little more comfortably into Martin's side, cocking her head to meet his eyes as she slid her hand back between them, curling her fingers gently over his knee, "and we're here, at night…I really have missed you…"
"It sort of sounds like you're suggesting one last hurrah." Martin replied, his tone lifting fractionally with the first inkling of a fond smirk that she had seen all night, as his cheeks managed to turn that little bit redder; good, Deborah mused, he did understand what she was suggesting.
"Maybe I am." Deborah drawled lightly, as she brought herself that inch closer, running her lips past his ear to place a small kiss to his cheek; leaving, he might have been, but they were together now, and she had missed him far too much.
Martin didn't need any more encouragement, as slowly he turned, running his eyes over her while a small, oddly pensive expression stole across his face, and he shifted closer, until he was almost kneeling on the sofa, letting Deborah's hands slide from his knees to around his waist and his back, and he stroked his hands past her ears, brushing her cheeks with the back of his knuckles as he pushed her hair behind her shoulders and then stayed there, as if he were framing her face, enraptured by a work of art.
Then there was kissing, and holding, and Deborah found herself lying with the cushions beneath her back, and Martin everywhere else, and she couldn't find it in herself to give two damns about anything else.
oOoOoOo
In the morning, after Deborah had woken up to Martin curled around her, stroking the tip of his fingers through her hair, and after the warm rush of affection and the familiar fluttering had settled into place, after they had shared the well worn platitudes and declarations murmured, and small kisses pressed here and there, she made her excuses and climbed out of bed, slipping on the pyjamas that she had nearby and wandering through to the bathroom to sort herself out in the mirror.
Then Deborah listened at the door, back pressed against the wall by the frame, as Martin talked on the phone, accepting Swiss Air's offer with a slightly croaky, reedy voice, while she pulled at the still messy strands of hair between her fingers, and thought strong, sarcastic thoughts until the tears that were threatening to pour out faded away.
She waited for the sound of Martin's phone hitting the floor, and the thump of his back hitting the mattress before she re-entered the room, making no effort to try and pretend that she was smiling or cheerful; he would see through it in a second. Martin was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling with a hard expression on his face, but the moment that he saw Deborah, he lifted his head and his features softened into their usual blush, and he let his arm flop out and his fingers curl, beckoning her to come and curl in beside him, tucked up in his arms, which was exactly what she did.
They didn't say much, barely a thing at all, too concerned with simply cherishing being close at all, while the looming presence of what had just been executed hung over them, tinging each interaction with a melancholy sort of sadness, that even lying with her head tucked into the crook of Martin's neck, comfortable and warm with his arms around her waist and his torso wrapped in hers, where she could hear his heart pounding out of time with the rise and fall, couldn't drive away.
It was only when Deborah noticed Martin playing with her sleeve, picking at the arm that she had slipped around his chest, that she realised what she had thought of as pyjamas when she picked them up was actually the fleece that she had 'stolen' from him months ago, a token from the end of a van job; he didn't say a word, merely smiled down at her with an odd light in his eyes when she shifted her arm to playfully bat him away, and tilted her head back to peck lightly at his chin.
Neither of them said much of anything; there wasn't much more to say.
This one came so much more easily than the last chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it.
and thank you very much to Ashtrees for pointing out that I had pasted the fic onto the page twice. I think I've fixed that. (This is what happens when you're not concentrating and just bang all the buttons in the hopes that something happens)