As promised, I managed to do it, and after this there'll be a whole week without updates.
Chapter 49
The sun was already up, but the thick curtains stopped its rays from invading Deborah's room as more than a muted glow, which made it even more difficult for her to blink into awareness, swathed as she was in the pleasant softness of her covers, and the comforting warmth of the other body that had been up until a moment ago, curled loosely around her.
Any lingering distemper that Deborah might have been feeling the night before was gone, and with the new day, she could muster nothing but wonderful, affectionate, passionate pleasure at the new acceptance that Martin was home, and if last night was any indicator, had no plans on going anywhere in the foreseeable future.
As Deborah rolled slightly, enough to rest on her back and stretch out her spine, her hand brushed against Martin's bare back, which was turned towards her as she caught him in the act of slipping tentatively across the mattress, legs pointing towards his side; she wasn't worried, not after the evening's events, but the hot tendrils in her chest that demanded Martin's presence, the essence of intimacy, were too alluring to resist.
"Where do you think you're going?" Deborah drawled, tracing the back of her hand down Martin's back as a smile spread across her lips; Martin froze at the sound of her voice, so Deborah took the opportunity to shift lazily onto her elbow so that she could loop one arm around Martin's waist, and rest her chin on his shoulder.
"Well, I was getting out of bed." Martin replied quietly, sighing as he turned in her hold, enough that she could see his face and brush the tip of her nose against his; the bridge of his nose was crinkled and Deborah thought that he sounded like a school boy petulant that his tricks hadn't gone as planned, "You were supposed to be asleep."
"I gathered as much." Deborah purred, still smiling indulgently at him, letting her tongue dart out to wet her lips as she looked into the blue of his eyes; it really was good to have him back where he belonged, so much so that she didn't know how she had ever coped without the sweet raging in amongst her ribs, "However, now that I'm awake and I've foiled your plan, I'll ask again. Where do you think you're going?"
"Um…yes, about that." Martin answered slyly, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth as he turned just a fraction more towards her, enough so that he was no longer at risk of escaping, "Before you woke up and ruined my scheme-"
"Oh, you're scheming now are you?" Deborah remarked warmly, sliding her hand around Martin's chest so that she could lead him back towards her, bringing him to lie back so that she could look down at him, still propped up on her elbow, "First keeping secrets now scheming, what am I going to do with you Captain?"
"I – y-you know I'm not technically Captain, right?" Martin inquired, his eyebrows coming together nicely as he nonetheless slipped his arm around Deborah's waist, resting his hand on the small of her back, stroking small circles with his thumb; oh, how she had once longed for the day that he would stop insisting that he was the captain.
"You'll always be my Captain." Deborah assured him, even though she inwardly scolded herself for sounding so soppy as she gently stroked her hand through his tussled ginger hair, doing little other than to make his fringe stick out even more erratically above his brow; if nothing else, it would make him happy, and transmit some of what she was feeling in that moment.
"Oh, um…well." Martin's voice managed to drop from his shrill stuttering to a far lower octave in barely a second, and a wicked grin crept onto his lips, as he lay his head back on the pillow and allowed Deborah to swoop down and press her lips to his; she had barely given him a peck before he sat up abruptly, his hand remaining as a guide at her back, "No, hold on, my scheme! I was going to sneak out of bed, cook up some breakfast, and then surprise you with it, but obviously I can't do that now."
"You didn't have to do that at all." Deborah told him softly, taking note of the disappointment in his tone as he grimaced to himself; the flickering embers of affection never faltered as she watched the flush in his cheeks wax and wane, and listened to him fussing.
"I know, but I want to." Martin explained, shrugging nonchalantly, as if he were trying to hide how much the idea had actually meant to him; that was enough to make Deborah feel just a little guilty for waking, though it was his own fault for being as graceful as a wildebeest, "As a sort of, romantic gesture type thing, to say I love you, and uh…thanks for letting me live here."
"You do understand that living here means you're no longer a guest, and therefore don't need to thank me anymore." Deborah clarified, as she settled down beside him, laying on her side rather than propped up above him, though she left her hand as it was, tracing circles on his chest; this was something that she was certain she and Martin would bicker over constantly until he became more comfortable, but after the mess that they had made before, she was careful to approach the subject.
"Just one more time." Martin replied in a hushed tone, lifting one finger into the air and narrowing his eyes; he was a stubborn man, that much was never going to change, no matter how far he tried to alter his habits.
"Oh, I suppose." Deborah sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes and pointedly ignoring the triumphant little smirk that appeared on Martin's face; then she shifted a little closer, and ran the tip of her finger from his chest to his chin, and drawled salaciously, "Anyway, I can think of a few things I'd much rather be doing than eating breakfast."
"I'm sure you can…" Martin agreed, his eyes betraying his tone as they wandered down to tickle over Deborah's lips, and his hand clenched when it stroked at her back; nevertheless, he didn't give up, "b-but I thought we'd need to start early so that we can get to Carolyn's in time."
"They're not expecting us 'til noon." Deborah replied, voice pitched at barely a whisper as she leaned in and pressed a small, fleeting kiss to first Martin's cheek, then a little further back, beside his ear, taking a marvellous thrill of victory as she felt him swallow hard and blush more deeply, even as he sat up a little straighter, propping his elbows up either side of him.
"Right…" Martin acknowledged a little breathlessly, letting his hand slip from Deborah's back to her waist as she followed his movement and shifted her weight onto her knees; he bit down on his bottom lip, and asked sheepishly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, "I'd still quite like to make breakfast though. It's just, I'm a bit hungry."
"You poor thing." Deborah pouted playfully, shaking her head at him until she could see her hair fluffing around the peripheries of her sights; she was in too good a mood to let him out of her sight, and too good a mood to truly refuse him a single thing he wanted, drawn by the lovely fluttering throughout her veins, "How about this? I allow you to leave the bed, and make breakfast, so long as I get to help-"
"But-" Martin began in interrupt, his eyes widening as they did when he felt that he had an important argument; but Deborah cut him off with a finger to his lips.
"No buts, it'll be fun." Deborah promised, a facsimile of seriousness as she leaned over him, and then very deliberately let her eyes trace down his chest, and then a little lower, "And then, when we've had our fill of the food that you desire, we come back to bed, and have our fill of what I'm desiring."
"Um…I'm not sure if we'll have time." Martin replied, trying to check a watch that wasn't there anymore, and wincing as if he were stricken at the possibilities that in his mind couldn't all exist in harmony.
"Surely your mental timetable has some built-in time?" Deborah inquired patiently, easing off of her overly suggestive posture and leaning back, giving Martin time to think; she knew how he functioned by now, and was willing to sacrifice her idea of a good morning for the sake of keeping him happy, if she really had to.
"Yes, of course it does," Martin retorted, raising an eyebrow at her as he scoffed through his nose, finding humour in her apparent doubt regarding his efficiency; he had yet to release Deborah from his loose embrace though, regardless of his protests, "In case we're running late."
"Well then, let's run exactly to time, and halve the minutes you've put aside for showering by combining our turns…" Deborah instructed suggestively, leaning back down and smirking at the thoughtful expression on Martin's face as she resisted the temptation to just kiss him and get it over with, "and then we'll have plenty of time left to spare."
"I…" Martin thought for only a moment, his brow creasing as his eyebrows knitted together; then he seemed to abandon his musings, and shrugged flippantly, pressing his lips together into a pleasant smile, "that could work."
"Of course it could." Deborah drawled, pecking him once on the lips before sitting back, and allowing Martin to hoist himself from the bed; he glanced devilishly at her over his shoulder as he slipped into some old pyjamas that had been buried in the top of his largest bad, and Deborah made no effort to hide the tracks that her eyes followed.
Breakfast turned out to be a harried, messy, ultimately enjoyable experience, as Martin weaved here and there around the kitchen trying to cook as many things as was possible all at once, and Deborah tried to stand in one place and cook one thing, while Martin fussed around her, moving past her with hands on her waist and shoulders, checking her progress and trying to take control.
In the end they simply ate as they cooked, and the litany of fond bickering never wavered, even when Deborah had to gently slap Martin's hands away from the stove as he attempted to 'help' her, and Martin became increasingly distracted by the various unusual cooking utensils that he had found hidden in her cupboards.
"What's this?"
"It takes the outer layers off of garlic; we don't need it now."
"But it's just a floppy, thing – I couldn't even get my hand in it."
"Well, luckily, I'm not planning on skinning your hand any time soon."
Somehow, despite both of their best efforts, the morning passed (albeit very pleasantly), and before she knew what was happening Deborah was being bundled into the passenger side of Martin's van, and the metal doors were clanging shut around them as they prepared to drive to Carolyn's house; their plans weren't quite nerve-wracking, but there was something
"Okay, o-okay," Martin was repeating over and over to himself as he curled his hands around the steering wheel and tapped his foot agitatedly; he turned abruptly to Deborah, and demanded, "do you remember everything we talked about last night?"
"Yes, I do, because as you've reminded me, it was only last night that we talked about it." Deborah replied wryly, teasing, but unable to muster up any sense of irritation or annoyance; it wasn't hard to understand why he was so nervous, given what they wanted to do.
"But you remember how we're going to sell it, and everything that we need to cover to win Carolyn over?" Martin asked hastily, adopting some of that frantic edge that was trying when under pressure, but rather endearing in the relative safety of his old, rickety, van.
"Yes, Martin, I remember." Deborah assured him, making sure to smile, but not too widely, in case he think that she was pretending for his sake, "Although, as I said last night, all we have to do is win Arthur over to sway Carolyn's vote, and that's hardly a mean feat."
"I don't want to take any chances." Martin sighed, gazing across the small gap imploringly, though he didn't lessen his grip on the wheel, "I know how important MJN is to you, and it's important to me as well…I'm absolutely certain that we can do this, with or without Carolyn, but I'd rather we had her on side."
"Well, she needs to hire you back first." Deborah remarked before she could stop herself, quirking her eyebrows at him; that was the only real obstacle to their success, Carolyn's stubbornness. How Deborah had managed to surround herself by such pedantically proud people she didn't know.
"Yes, there's also that." Martin replied dry, swallowing hard enough that his throat bobbed and his chest shuddered imperceptibly; Deborah couldn't be sure exactly what it was that he was worried about, but she was certain that whatever it was, it would be something that he could smash.
"We'll be fine." Deborah promised, and with that she reached across the space between them and placed her hand on Martin's wrist, squeezing gently, and hoping that he understood that whatever happened, she would be there, be it to congratulate him, or to scrape him from the tarmac.
oOoOoOo
When they arrived at the Shappey residence, Deborah found herself completely ignored as the door flew open before she had a chance to ring the bell, and Arthur appeared on the other side, in his casual wear, eyes wide, smile wide, and arms thrown out just as wide, all of him wide with excitement.
"Martin!" Arthur exclaimed, as he barrelled forwards and pulled Martin into what looked like a crippling hug, making him stumble back before he was dragged back to his feet; Deborah took the opportunity to step past the two of them and into the hall, watching the proceedings with a faint smile on her face.
"Oh! Hello, Arthur…" Martin's reply was somewhat muffled, as he struggled to pat the other man clumsily on the back; the sight might have been heart warming if it hadn't filled Deborah with the desire to prod and poke fun at them, in a friendly way of course, "I'm pleased to see you too."
Deciding that it was best to move on, Deborah wandered through the hall and into the large, cluttered kitchen, where she found Carolyn clattering about near the sink; it was still odd seeing Carolyn doing anything even slightly domestic, but looking around, Deborah supposed that there was little choice, as it looked like Arthur had been the one to make most of the mess.
"Morning Carolyn." Deborah announced herself, as she leaned back against the doorframe and folded her arms loosely over her chest; now that she thought about it, even with the trepidation that she felt about having to confront Carolyn, she was feeling rather chipper.
"Oh, hello Deborah." Carolyn replied dismissively, turning towards her and nonetheless throwing down the tea towel that she had been wringing out as she surveyed her, "You look – hmmm."
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Deborah inquired, leaning forwards slightly and playfully cupping a hand behind her ear as Carolyn shook her head and pursed her lips, moving across the kitchen to put a pile of plates in a cupboard, "I didn't quite catch the end of that."
"I was about to say that you looked to be in a rather good mood, then realised that that was the last thing on Earth I wanted to hear about." Carolyn replied dryly, rolling her eyes when Deborah simply smirked; when Martin appeared at Deborah's elbow, stepping past her and moving further into the room so as not to block the entrance, she paused in her chores, and smiled thinly, though she made no move towards him, "Martin – hello."
"Hello…" Martin greeted her, a bashful smile spreading across his cheeks as he blushed, and swayed slightly on his heels, hand buried deep in his pockets; something about the way that Carolyn looked at him made the bridge of his nose crinkle, and his eyes narrow suspiciously, "what was that face for?"
"Oh, nothing." Carolyn remarked airily, batting her hand though the air as if it were no matter at all, and plastering on a pleasant smile; she could pretend all she wanted, Deborah knew that she was pleased to see him, deep down, "It's just there was a part of me expecting you to look more Swiss."
"No, still English." Martin assured her brightly, shooting Deborah a sideways glance as if to beg for moral support; it seemed that he, unlike her, hadn't quite been able to shake the nerves of before.
"And entirely unaltered." Deborah chimed, stepping to Martin's side and brushing her hands fleetingly over his arm, tugging just enough that he was led towards the chairs that surrounded the round table in the centre of the kitchen; breathing just a little too fast, and clearing his throat too much, Martin sat, and Deborah quickly lowered herself down beside him.
"I'll say no more." Carolyn stated plainly; if she noticed how oddly they were behaving, she said not a word, to Deborah's relief, and simply took a seat on the opposite side of the table, crossing her arms at the wrist as she faced them, "Well, how's being a First Officer suiting you? A bit of an adjustment for you I'd assume?"
Deborah hadn't been expecting a heartfelt, joyous reunion, but something about this awkward, stilted gathering felt perfectly apt when in the frame of MJN; the familiarity of it all made the prickling in her stomach fade away, and prompted her to try and offer Martin the same comfort by slipping her hand over his wrist, squeezing encouragingly, and then staying where she was.
"Um…it's not being a Captain, that's for sure." Martin attempted a sort of jovial chuckle, but in reality it petered off towards the end, and sounded weak, and most definitely forced; luckily, before Carolyn had a chance to pick up on that, Arthur sauntered into the room, and came to a stop beside the sink.
"But you were a brilliant Captain." Arthur exclaimed, as if this solved everything, leaning back against the counter with his arms outstretched behind him; Deborah was sure that it only served to make Martin more nervous, as his wrist jumped beneath her hand, "I'm sure if you asked, or worked really hard, Swiss Air would bump you back up to Captain; they let Herc be one straight away."
"I-I wouldn't be so sure about that." Martin muttered, ducking his head to grimace slightly, biting down on his bottom lip; that was enough to spur Deborah into action, as she couldn't stand to see him get agitated when everything was supposed to be getting better.
"We wanted to talk to you both actually-" Deborah started, turning back to address Carolyn without a shred of humour or sarcasm; but both Carolyn and Arthur were too carried away, and oblivious to the underlying strain that she and Martin were under.
"There's plenty of time for that later." Carolyn remarked flippantly, waving Deborah down without a thought for the unusually serious set of her jaw, or the fraying patience in her eyes, "We've got a bit of time before we need to get to the restaurant, so we can have a good old chinwag then."
"Carolyn-" Deborah tried again, calmly, knowing that they couldn't in good faith relax until everything was laid bare between them, and Martin wasn't so riled up with nerves; but once again, she was cut off, as had to inhale sharply and deeply to keep her cool, though her grip on Martin's wrist may have increased somewhat.
"Ooh, I can get some coffees on now, so that we can sit down before we leave." Arthur offered, already pushing himself away from the counter to cross the room behind them and reach for the kettle.
"Good idea." Carolyn told him, ignoring Deborah's attempt to speak.
"Actually, Carolyn, we really wanted to talk before-" Deborah enunciated loudly and clearly, trying not to grit her teeth or bite her tongue as her posture stiffened infinitesimally, and pleasant anticipation made way for true shards of annoyance that splintered in her throat.
"There's no point fussing now," Carolyn interrupted her yet again, rolling her eyes as if Deborah were the one out of order; it wasn't her fault, she had no idea what was going on, but that didn't stop it from being extremely frustrating regardless, "let's just enjoy a few hours peace."
"No, stop!" Martin snapped, lifting his hands from where they had been pressed against the table top into the air, and glaring at Carolyn and Arthur; both of them froze, and even the clattering of Arthur's kettle seemed to fall silent as all eyes fell on Martin, "Both of you stop what you're doing and listen. Carolyn, Arthur…Deborah and I really, really need to talk to you, and we'd like to do it now. It's important."
"Are you in trouble?" Arthur asked quickly, abandoning his task to stride around the table and pull out a chair beside his mother, who was watching Martin with one eyebrow arched expectantly; Deborah glanced between them, and then back at Martin, and decided that he really did have a hold on the situation, though what had triggered that she didn't know.
"No, we're not in trouble," Martin reassured him, grimacing apologetically, then sighing and pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, as if that might alleviate the tension that was setting his shoulders in place, "but this needs to be done now."
"Oh, good, that's a relief." Arthur replied, his expression brightening once again as he let out a sigh of relief and smiled within seconds; so long as everyone was safe, there wasn't a force on Earth that could keep Arthur's mood down, especially when he was already charged with excitement, "So what's going on?"
"It's not really the sort of thing that can be left until this evening." Deborah spoke before Martin could open and close his mouth gormlessly, his nerves apparently faltering as the rush of adrenaline that had come from nowhere began to fade once more, and the blush returned to his cheeks and his hand slid across the table and sought hers.
"Alright then. I'll ignore the fact that you're bossing me around in my own home, only because I want to know what's got your knickers in a twist." Carolyn remarked wryly, all of her previous pleasantries gone, and in their place, a suspiciously pinched expression, and arms folded fiercely across her chest, making her appear more intimidating than before.
"Thank you." Martin replied, taking a deep breath and attempting to seem in control; Deborah could see his resolve shatter, and there was no doubt that Carolyn could see it too, as he began to stutter, and rubbed his free hand over the back of his neck, "Okay…um…uh…I-I-I-um…"
"Come on Martin." Carolyn lightly scolded him, rolling her eyes and huffing at the floundering that she had become so used to over the years; Deborah couldn't help but feel her hackles rise slightly, in defence of what she had been, only a day before, criticising him for, "At this rate you'll be on your way back to Switzerland before we hear what you have to say."
"I-I-I…" Martin's spluttering became even more agitated, and before he could formulate a coherent sentence, he turned abruptly in his seat and gazed helplessly at Deborah, the plea in his expression like a tangible cry for help, "Deborah…"
"Martin's not going back to Switzerland, and he's not working for Swiss Air anymore." Deborah said quickly, and firmly, squeezing Martin's hand tightly in hers and turning away from him to meet Carolyn's shocked gaze, never wavering for a moment; the reflexive need to stop Martin feeling so damn anxious was enough to gird her stomach and quell the trickling edge of caution that she had been feeling before, "He quit."
"What?" Arthur squawked, his eye widening in surprise, though instead of the joy that Deborah had been expecting, he leant forwards over the table, hands clasping together as his expression pinched in confusion.
"What?" Carolyn demanded in the same second, although, unlike the confusion that had caught Deborah by the throat at the airport the previous day, she seemed to have no trouble accepting what she had just heard; instead, Carolyn's mass seemed to expand with carefully controlled anger, "Deborah, if you are responsible for this-"
"I'm not." Deborah replied curtly, refusing to back down; she had already had this argument with Martin once that weekend, and now she wasn't going to let herself be accused and criticised for what should have been a good, wonderful thing. Martin coming home was the best thing to happen to her, and Carolyn was not going to replace the happiness that she had embraced with guilt.
"If you made him give up the biggest opportunity any of us are going to get-" Carolyn carried on as if Deborah hadn't spoken, leaning in as if to scold her even further; Deborah couldn't help the pang of guilt, or it could have been hurt, in her chest at the accusation that she might have done anything to jeopardise Martin's happiness.
As if Carolyn still thought her capable of such cruelty or selfishness; she tried not to let it should on her face, but Deborah couldn't have been as successful as she thought, as she felt Martin shift against her arm, and he raised his voice over Carolyn's.
"Deborah didn't make me do anything." Martin insisted decidedly, his jaw setting irritably as he glared at Carolyn across the table, and gripped Deborah's hand until it was almost painful, "This was entirely my decision, so if you want to have a go at me for throwing away this big opportunity, then do, but don't take it out on her."
"So, you don't work for Swiss Air anymore?" Arthur asked, his perplexed squint just a tad more serious than it usually was, as he ignored his mother's abashed glare; Deborah supposed that what they were seeing was genuine concern, rather than the overly optimistic dismissal that they were used to.
"No," Martin replied, an edge of sheepishness creeping into his tone and his fingers began to shift uncomfortably around Deborah's; when no immediate reply came, he ploughed on, trying to inject some false vigour into his words, "I'm currently unemployed, and I'm going to be living with Deborah, here in Fitton."
"So you're home for good?" Arthur asked again, still missing the thrill that Deborah had been expecting from him; that alone made her all the more determined to make this right, whether they accepted the way that things were or not.
"Yes." Martin replied shortly, biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes fell from Arthur's, and down onto the table top again.
"That's why we wanted to talk to you." Deborah added, taking care to maintain a calm and soft demeanour, despite how unsettled and frankly disappointed she was feeling, gritting her teeth and pointedly ignoring the roiling in her guts for the sake of peace.
"To find out what I thought of the two of you making the stupidest decision in the history of stupid decisions," Carolyn huffed, glaring between the two of them as if they had committed some crime worthy of treason, as if this were actually an affront to her, rather than the romantic act that it was, "and I say that as the very loving mother of Arthur."
"Hey!" Arthur exclaimed, but nobody paid him any attention as he sat back in his seat and pouted slightly.
"What were you expecting me to say?" Carolyn demanded, throwing her hands into the air; Deborah glanced fleetingly to meet Martin's gaze, but he was stubbornly glaring back at Carolyn, his cheeks flushed with determination, "You weren't honestly expecting me to bring out the banners and celebrate? Martin, I knew you were a fool, but this is far beyond anything I saw coming-"
"We're not expecting anything from you, Carolyn," Deborah interjected, deciding that enough was enough, and they weren't going to sit and listen to her scolding any longer; Carolyn raised her eyebrows at the interruption, but Deborah simply pursed her lips and carried on, "and to be fair, this isn't really your issue to be getting worked up over."
"Except I'd sort of like my job back." Martin chipped in, toeing the line between hopeful and cheeky as he winced under Carolyn's fiery gaze; he fidgeted uncomfortably, and swallowed hard as he spluttered, "I-if you were willing, I mean."
"I'm sorry?" Carolyn inquired, her eyes flickering to Deborah as if Martin's word alone wasn't confirmation enough of what she had just heard; Deborah had to admit, this was the bit that had made tiny little teeth gnaw at her nerves, as she knew that there was as much chance of failure as there was of success.
"I-if it was alright with you…I'd quite like to come back to work at MJN…" Martin repeated slowly, as if he were talking to a tiger, diverting all of his attention to where his hand was joined with Deborah, picking idly at the back of his knuckle with his other hand, "so long as that's okay."
"Really?" Arthur gasped, though he still didn't sound as convinced, nor as enthused as he should have done; instead, his eyes were still wandering between Deborah and Martin as if there were some vital clue that he was missing, despite their efforts to lay everything bare, "Because, even though MJN is brilliant, you were a bit poor when you worked for us, and I thought that that was something you wanted to stop being…poor, I mean."
"Yes, really. Money isn't everything, a-and I miss working with you- all of you." Martin replied, shrugging nonchalantly and making it sound as if it were no big deal; even so, Deborah feel his confidence waning even as he spoke, "I mean, yeah, I was getting paid at Swiss Air, b-but it wasn't nearly as much fun, even though they did obey the rules, and I barely saw the same person twice for two weeks."
"I thought you liked regiment." Carolyn retorted, smirking triumphantly, as if she were so very clever for thinking up such a strong argument; clearly she hadn't seen just how much Martin had been adjusting himself in the past few months.
"Oh, believe me, he absolutely still does." Deborah drawled, unable to let the matter be; she trailed the tip of her finger over the table top, and smiled wanly as she continued fondly, "His bathroom routine is still longer than mine."
"Yes, thank you, Deborah." Martin muttered, turning his head to create the facsimile of privacy, before tugging and then realising her hand, and turning to gaze imploringly at Carolyn; he leaned across the table, his arms outstretched as he gesticulated, "Carolyn, please…you need another pilot to be able to do the longer flights, and if you hire me again, for free, then MJN won't fold in the next few months."
There it was, the flicker of hope that alighted in Deborah's chest whenever she thought of it; they could save MJN, they really could, and nothing would have to change about her life, other than to improve. Martin was on board, so there was nothing that they couldn't manage between them.
"Aw, Mum, please hire Martin again." Arthur interjected, making Carolyn startle as if she had forgotten that he was there, with all of her deep thinking and picking holes in their pleas; his face was wobbling somewhere on the precipice between hope and joy, and he leaned into the group, hand tapping out a stumbling rhythm on the table, "It hasn't been the same with just the three of us."
"Even you have to admit that the flight-deck's been horribly dull." Deborah remarked fairly, addressing Carolyn directly, without a shred of mockery, praying that her open expression didn't seem so out of place as to disconcert her; Arthur was in, and that meant that victory was on the horizon.
"It's a lovely thought, it really is." Carolyn sighed, shaking her head and lifting a hand to press against her forehead; that was perfect, resignation winning over agitation, "But I don't think any of you realise that MJN is a loss making company, and no matter how many long flights we make, we've been sinking nearer to bankruptcy since before we even hired Martin in the first place."
"Ah, but that's the second part of our talk!" Deborah announced daringly, grinning slightly as she folded her arms in order to prop them on the table; it was easy to become playful now that the thrumming of success once again rippled beneath her skin, "Never fear, Martin has a plan!"
"Brilliant!" Arthur declared, his complete faith in them so strong that he didn't even need to hear the plan, but simply grinned back at Deborah as if already privy to their schemes.
"Is it brilliant?" Carolyn groaned, her exasperation tangible in the air around them; that was no matter, she could be persuaded, Deborah was sure of it, "I have heard some of Martin's plans, and as I recall, they've never ended well for any of us."
"I am still here you know." Martin interjected, his forehead pinching with affronted annoyance; he peered between the three of them, cocking his head like a spaniel that wasn't receiving enough attention.
"And I have complete faith in you." Deborah drawled, pouting as she patted Martin's hand, then turned away from him to talk to Carolyn, leaning in towards her and lowering her voice, hoping that honesty and reason would win her over, "Carolyn, we spent hours yesterday discussing this, and I truly believe that what Martin's come up with could work. We could have MJN running for years, and not just that…we could start making a profit."
"I wouldn't be suggesting that we try anything if I thought that we were going to fail." Martin remarked indignantly; Deborah didn't turn to see what face he was making, but she was sure that she had seen it often enough to guess, enough to feel the fluttering of affection that wasn't helpful in that moment in time.
"Martin, you're the king of trying in the face of definite failure." Carolyn shot back, sparing him only a glance before he huffed and slumped back in his seat, rustling as he shoved his arms together, "Why can't you accept that things are coming to an end?"
"Because we don't want to." Deborah answered firmly, making Carolyn pause in whatever it was that she had been going to say; she leant forwards just that little bit more, as if to cut Martin and Arthur from the conversation.
"Carolyn…I understand how hard running this company has been on you, and I know that maintaining GERTI has caused you more suffering than joy, I even understand that…that you might be growing tired of it all, or that you might want to start moving on." Deborah reasoned, bolstered somewhat when Carolyn didn't scoff, but merely rolled her eyes; this would have been so much easier without the lads there, but some things couldn't wait, "Herc's only a short flight away, and if you drop MJN then you'd have one less set of debts and duties to look after-"
"Are you suggesting that it's time for me to retire?" Carolyn demanded curtly, folding her hands together over the table and tenting her fingers, looking as intimidating as she ever had; it was only years of experience that told Deborah that she had hit a nerve.
"No- god forbid that ever happen, you're like a storm trooper, good until you drop." Deborah assured her, allowing herself a momentary smile; this was one of those horrible moments where she had to admit to herself, even to Carolyn, that she may actually have some lingering respect for the woman, "But…if you wanted to step back, and put your feet up, and get some peace away from the fuss that MJN caused, we wouldn't blame you, because – and I will never say this again – you've done a remarkable job. But, if you wanted to do that…Martin and I would still want to keep MJN going, ourselves."
"With Arthur if he wanted, as he's technically your heir." Martin added brightly; Deborah closed her eyes for a moment, inwardly cursing his inability to see that this was a private moment, yet also finding herself immensely grateful that the conversation had been moved so swiftly onwards.
"We're both too invested to just let go…" Deborah concluded, pointedly ignoring the churning in her guts and the terrible sinking sensation in her chest that was screaming at her that this whole ordeal was far more personal than she had ever hoped to get, "so if you wanted to let go of the reigns, or you just couldn't be bothered any more…with your permission, we'd carry on."
After a moment, in which Carolyn surveyed Deborah and Martin through narrowed eyes, and Deborah sat back until she was level with him, she sighed, and shook her head as if cursing the world and its uncle.
"Arthur?" Carolyn inquired softly, turning her head away from them to address her son; a wash of wonderful, beautiful emotion caught Deborah by surprise, as it became apparent that there was now nothing to stop them.
"I want to keep working with Martin and Deborah." Arthur replied honestly, with an innocence that could win hearts, and probably had considering his track record; he smiled brightly as his eyes wandered between the pilots, "If they can get MJN going properly again, then that'd be the best thing in the world."
"Well…I suppose that if you've all got your hearts set on this, I can't just walk away." Carolyn remarked dourly; she was in, she wasn't abandoning them after all, "Knowing the three of you, you'd be dead within the week – or worse, you'd have alienated all the grounds crew and set fire to the airfield."
"Yes, that does sound worse." Deborah tried to drawl, but if anything, she thought that it came out as more of a warm chuckle, as she struggled not to let a grin crawl across her lips and reveal just how pleased she really was.
"So am I hired again?" Martin asked with refrain, as if afraid that she might actually still say no, just to spite him for leaving in the first place; Deborah scoffed gently, and slipped her hand back into his.
"Why not?" Carolyn exclaimed, rolling her eyes in despair, "It's not as if you're going to leave me alone if I say no."
"And I can tell you all the ideas that we came up with to save MJN?" Martin inquired, wincing through a smile composed entirely of teeth as he accepted Deborah's hand and raised his arms onto his elbows; Deborah could have sworn that some of his excitement was leeching into her through the point of contact, like a jittery little impulse fired through his skin.
"Not now." Carolyn replied tartly, taking a deep breath and regaining her status as the proud and indomitable matriarch; any trace of her previous resignation was gone, "I'm not having that kind of discussion without a decent meal in front of me."
oOoOoOo
Thankfully, by the time that the four of them were seated in the quaint country restaurant that Arthur had selected, and they had placed their orders, Carolyn's annoyance had faded enough that only a residual glare remained; Deborah sat between Martin and Arthur, sipping her orange juice while Carolyn threw back half a glass of wine and sighed.
"I still don't understand what you think you can do." Carolyn remarked drearily, placing her glass down and lacing her hands together; since they had left her house, in separate vehicles to avoid any more arguments, she had been reeling off doubt after doubt despite having agreed to try and resurrect her own airline, "I've been running MJN for over a decade, and I've never even come close to making a profit."
"You've done a wonderful job, Carolyn, and we're not criticising your methods." Deborah assured her patiently; she was aware that her usual brand of sarcasm would only deter their plan, so she was taking care to remain reasonable and as far from herself as possible, "We simply think that by doing things differently, from the point of view of a business plan, the company could flourish."
"Would you mind explaining to me how you plan to achieve such an insurmountable feat?" Carolyn inquired sardonically; it was clear that she didn't really believe that they could…she had always been one to humour them though, if Arthur was on board.
"Of course, but I think you'll find that Martin has a far greater grasp of this sort of thing than I do." Deborah replied airily, smirking with pride as she curled her hand through the air and gestured to Martin, who batted her hand away, giving it a little squeeze before releasing her, "I'll let him run you through it."
"Right, okay, um- yeah." Martin stuttered, slipping ever so slightly into his 'professional' voice, as he sat a little straighter and moved his hands to create a boxy sort of shape in the air, "Right…what Deborah and I were talking about yesterday, and what we decided was a good idea, was this-"
"The point Martin, try and get to it." Carolyn interrupted him, glaring with a carefully cocked eyebrow; Deborah hadn't been about to say anything, rather enjoying getting to hear him ramble, as she had missed it, so she simply remained silent, despite the prickle at her shoulders.
"Yes. Okay…Basically, there are a few key areas that we need to improve on in order to start bringing in a profit." Martin explained, once he had cleared his throat and glanced frantically around to the beat of his cheeks lighting up; he had been so proud of this the previous night, it was good to see him regaining some of that confidence now, "These are: the Target Market, Marketing slash Advertising, and PR, as well as the obvious cost cutting things like, cheap fuel and landing fees, et cetera…"
"You say these things, but I don't see how any of this is going to help us." Carolyn sighed again, before Martin had time to elaborate on his cost cutting scheme; this time, the prickle of irritation did manage to breach Deborah's carefully maintained calm.
"Just listen Carolyn," Deborah instructed sharply, lifting her hand into the air as a warning; then, slowly, she released the tension from her shoulders, and exhaled slowly, drawling and tearing her eyes away to trace over Martin's face as he watched her, "it's actually rather good."
"Yes, thank you." Martin replied, preening imperceptibly as a smile threatened to creep onto his face; then he visibly snapped himself out of it, and started making round about definitive hand motions, that jumped and shimmied with his words, "Okay, firstly, we've got the Target Market; our customers, and the slice of the population that hire us, is too limited. We're never going to stay afloat when the only people that hire us are rich and wealthy and likely to look down at what we're offering."
"It's a private jet, Martin, who else is going to hire us." Carolyn retorted drolly, sitting back in her seat and rolling her shoulders in the way of a woman who already believed that what she was hearing wouldn't work.
"Anyone! That's my point." Martin insisted, compensating by sitting forwards, and leaning his elbows on the table between them; there was something about his eager energy, as he pushed up his sleeves and his lips kept trying to curl upwards at the corners, that made it difficult for Deborah to keep a faint smile from her own face as her eyes followed his every movement, "At the prices we're charging, we could get working to middle class people booking us for holidays and quick trips because we're cheaper than any other private jet, we've got plenty of seats, and we can promise them a relief from the hassle of busy airport and other guests."
"We've always been able to do that." Arthur chimed in, mirroring Martin's pose as he too leant forwards on the table, though he fiddled with a napkin, twisting and folding as he listened, "That's what's so great about GERTI."
"Precisely." Deborah echoed, for Carolyn's sake more than anyone else's; peer pressure, that was what they needed, enough of it to convince Carolyn that everything would be fine so long as they all agreed to it.
"But how are you planning to lure in these antisocial working and middle class families?" Carolyn inquired seriously, dropping her hands to the table, palms facing up in a fit of exasperation, startling a waiter that was passing by.
"That's my second point; Marketing!" Martin trilled, splaying his fingers wide with the movement; his fidgeting had shifted into the good kind that warned of a cheerful and self-confident Captain, "MJN currently has almost no advertising; it's a miracle we ever had customers. But if we get the word out, get some proper marketing, then people will know about us, and with the cheapness, and the novelty of getting your own plane for the day, people will flock to us."
"How do you plan to execute this marketing campaign?" Carolyn asked, narrowing her eyes at him and snatching up her glass to take another swig of wine, waving over the a stray waiter to top her up; she peered around their arm as they brought the bottle across, "Advertisement costs money."
"Not if we're clever about it." Martin replied quickly, shaking his head and momentarily dragging his bottom lip between his teeth as he waved away the waiter's offer of a top up, and the young man disappeared back into the crowd, "See, between the airports that we can get in touch with, and the travel agents that you already have on tab, and all of the thousands of people all across this country and the rest of the world that Deborah seems to know, it'll be easy to ask for a few favours and have them put up posters and leaflets and recommendations; if we update the website and make it professional, and pay Google just a little bit to put us at that bit at the top of their search list for cheap flights, then everyone will be able to find us."
"My point still stands." Carolyn said, in the most measured tone that Deborah had ever heard her use; that must have meant that she was being won over, "Who are you going to pay to put together these posters and leaflets and to update the website?"
"Deborah can do it." Martin chirped, the smile on his face never wavering, as he held Carolyn's gaze; the same could not be said for Deborah.
"Wait, hold on." Deborah demanded, her eyebrows reaching her hairline as she lurched forwards from where she had been sitting like a monarch in her throne and surveying Martin; they hadn't covered that at all during their conversation the previous night, "I didn't agree to that."
"No, not yet." Martin agreed, smiling ever brighter, and slipping his hand between them to grasp hers, giving it a playful little shake as if that would help her to process the fact that he expected her to suddenly start drawing up an advertising campaign, "But you will."
"Oh, will I?" Deborah retorted sarcastically, her voice turning just a little shrill as she pulled her hand from Martin's hold and folded her arms over her chest, swallowing back the fluttering of doubt that appeared between her ribs; she was all for helping, but she was a pilot, not a miracle worker, no matter what the rest of them may have thought.
"I'm with Deborah on this one." Carolyn interjected before Martin could say another word, "A good pilot she may be, but I have never once dared to consider letting her handle anything regarding the public, or the business side of the company."
Exactly! She couldn't be trusted with paperwork, or the actually running of the company; that wouldn't end well at all.
"No, n-no, listen!" Martin begged, turning his attention away from Carolyn to reach between them and take both of Deborah's hands in his; the way that he pursed his lips and went all wide eyed had to be deliberate, "Deborah, your desk in the porta-cabin is filled with nearly hundreds of leaflets and posters that you've drawn by hand-"
"Because I was bored!" Deborah exclaimed, gaping at him as she threw her head back and rolled her eyes; the sneaky bastard just had to have kept this bit a secret so that he could ambush her with the others present.
"But they're good." Martin argued, barely a breath above a whisper, "You've got the eye for spacing, and arrangement of text, and every one of them has the company details on them; not only that, but I've seen you produce drawings left right and centre, I know that with just a little effort, you'd have no problem knocking up a logo, and proper posters and leaflets with all the information that people would need to want to hire us."
"I don't know about that." Deborah scoffed, looking away from Martin's eyes and across the table; there was no luck there, as both Arthur and Carolyn had a look about them that said that they were actually considering what Martin was suggesting.
"You are good at that sort of thing though." Arthur noted thoughtfully, tapping his chin where he was rested up on his hands.
"He has a point." Carolyn added, her previous doubt fading into something more intrigued, and all the more daunting, as it signed away the last shred of hope that Deborah had in terms of support, "It may be borderline obsessive, but those mock-ups aren't half bad."
"Hold on – putting aside the fact that you've all rifled through my desk at least once without my permission," Deborah exclaimed, taking her hands back again, and raising them in a universal sign for surrender, "there's more to advertising than having an eye for colours and pictures."
"I have absolute faith in you." Martin said, with such a degree of certainty that Deborah couldn't argue with him, caught off guard by a sudden rush of fluttering in her chest, as Martin kept on talking, gazing imploringly into her eyes, "Deborah, it's all about how you word it, and words are sort of your thing…you could convince anyone to do anything if you put your mind to it."
"Well, yes…" Deborah replied carefully, cautious not to sound as if she was agreeing, even though her mind started whirring, "I remember when I was studying Language, we did a section on media, and persuasive writing…it was all about highlighting certain phrases, positive ones, like 'Free' or 'Cheaper Than', and then putting them in a brighter font so that people's eyes are drawn to it."
Not that she actually thought about it, there were about a thousand tricks that they could use, all a little bit more entertaining than the last; damn, Martin knew how she ticked, and he'd trapped her now.
"I hope that you're not thinking of putting the word 'Free' anywhere near my company." Carolyn interjected, quick as always to avoid losing even hypothetical money; her hand stiffened where she had curled her fingers around her wine glass.
"But we could!" Deborah remarked, her eyebrows dipping as she gazed into the middle distance above Martin's head, caught and carried by the wave of ideas that Martin had incited as she lifted a finger to her lips; he may have been sneaking and secretive, and deserve a good slap, but actually, it wasn't a bad idea, "Think about it; we could say 'When you book a family flight, children under twelve fly FREE'. That's sure to win over parents that have to pay for seats on busy planes, where their spawn could cause all kinds of trouble."
"But I didn't think we charged per person, 'cos it costs the same to fly to places no matter how many people are on board." Arthur cut in, peering, bewildered between the three of them; Deborah raised her eyebrows, but was too surprised by the fact that Arthur actually paid attention to come back with a clever remark.
"Actually, the heavier the people, them more fuel we have to pay for." Martin corrected him, shrugging his head side to side as if he were sorry to burst Arthur's bubble; as the man that loved to be right about anything regarding flying, he fooled no one, but he did incite a flicker of affection in Deborah, so she took a moment to flick her toes up his ankle beneath the table, earning a quick, sheepish glance.
"It is the same, Arthur, it's a clever trick." Carolyn explained deviously, rolling her eyes when he continued to stare blankly at her, but reiterating nonetheless, "Say it costs three hundred pounds to fly somewhere; if we have two passengers, we tell them it costs one hundred and fifty pounds each, but if there are three of them, it costs one hundred pounds each. These families wouldn't be getting their child on for free, but they'd be none the wiser."
"Exactly…" Deborah agreed, sitting back in her seat and kicking her feet out to cross beneath the table; it was simple really, so terrifyingly easy to alter the way that the company functioned, that it was a wonder that they hadn't been doing things that way from the beginning.
"So you're willing to do that?" Carolyn clarified, turning her attention from Arthur back to Deborah; it wasn't a demand, or even an order, and Deborah knew that she was being given the choice…but there really wasn't any choice when the alternative loomed at the back of her mind.
"I suppose…there's no harm in trying." Deborah sighed, running a hand through her hair; as her eyes met Martin's, and she found herself victim to the bashful, beautiful smile that lit up his face, she couldn't help but force a bit of jaunty confidence, "And when I've sorted the advertising, it'll be easy to get people on the phone, and they won't even bat an eyelid at putting out leaflets or recommending the website."
"Good." Carolyn nodded in a business-like manner, and took another sip of wine; then she turned her gaze on Martin, who was still gazing into Deborah's eyes, making imperceptible little faces at her as the smile on her face grew and settled, "Martin; that PR you were talking about."
"Oh, um…actually that just ties into the Marketing." Martin said sheepishly, startling as if from a trance, and rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, swivelling in his seat to compensate for just how far he had turned, "Just, um, j-just try being nicer to the passengers. Now, I-I-I know that sounds silly, b-but if you're nicer to them, they might come back."
"I'm always nice to the passengers." Arthur chipped in, grinning proudly as he leant on his folded hands; it was good to see him so involved, although, there was very little that he could actually do in terms of fixing MJN.
"Yes…" Martin acknowledged, nodding slowly and chewing absentmindedly on his bottom lip, "it wasn't really you that I was talking to."
"Oh, fine! I'll be wishy-washy if it'll get us a profit." Carolyn groaned, shaking her head at the very thought; but it didn't matter. They had a plan, a plan that they all agreed on, and that could actually be done!
"Marvellous!" Deborah exclaimed, abandoning all attempts to remain aloof as she beamed and allowed Martin's fingers to curl around hers again as she was hit by a rush of joy that seemed to come out of nowhere, "Now, I think that that's enough business for now. We should be celebrating Martin's triumphant return…a toast?"
"Can I give the toast?" Arthur requested loudly, immediately straightening up and taking his glass of pineapple juice in hand, raising it from the table in anticipation before any of them could answer in the affirmative.
"Just this once." Deborah told him, smiling indulgently as he beamed gratefully at her; there could be no harm in it, not now that everything was settling back into place, and the world putting itself to rights. It would be a long road, but they'd get there eventually.
While Martin plucked his wine from the table, and Carolyn hadn't truly put hers down, Deborah took her time in lifting her own glass, giving Arthur the time he needed to mentally prepare himself.
"Okay, ahem-ahem." Arthur made a show of standing, even as Carolyn waved her hand to try and usher him down, and cleared his throat dramatically; Deborah simply scoffed as Martin chuckled lowly, and shuffled her chair a little closer, under the guise of being able to better see Arthur, when it really allowed her to lay hers and Martin's joined arms alongside each other, "A toast to Martin coming home, and MJN not dying soon, and still getting to fly on GERTI, and the whole gang being back together like we're supposed to be even though it's likely that we might run out of money, or crash, or-"
"Arthur!" Carolyn scolded him, such a familiar sound that it had Deborah tipping her head just so, until she could almost have been leaning on Martin's shoulder.
"Sorry!" Arthur apologised quickly, and then got himself back on track, lifting his arm where he had dropped it, "A toast to the gang getting back together-"
"We're not a gang." Deborah interjected wryly, scowling playfully into Martin's cheek when his fingers pinched at her waist.
"Fine!" Arthur huffed, his smile faltering for only a second before it was back, and he spoke with a slightly forced fervour, "A toast to all of us friends being back together, not as a gang, and for us hopefully staying together for a long time, maybe even forever."
"That's better." Deborah murmured, and she lifted her glass into the air, nodding for Arthur to carry on as Carolyn rolled her eyes and Martin, the soppy idiot, hummed in agreement with Arthur's toast.
"Cheers!"
oOoOoOo
It was late enough in the evening that the sky was dark, but not late enough for tiredness to have crept across the land and consumed the weary mortals under its watch; Carolyn and Arthur had departed for their home when the gathering had lost its appeal, with sharp commands that they all be in work bright and early the next day, but Martin had Deborah had taken a detour.
Of course, it was cold, cold enough to bite through their coats, and a little damp from the day of cloudy weather, but there was still a residual, lingering buzz about them, and they just hadn't been able to resist one last romantic jaunt before it was time to adjust to the real world with the both of them in it.
Which was how Martin's van had ended up parked as near to the porta-cabin as it was possible to bring it, and Deborah and Martin lay atop the small building, having clambered up the van and onto the roof, and then lain down, huddled together against the chill, half watching the sky, half watching the tiny little planes make their circuits.
As Deborah lay curled up in Martin's arms, their sides pressed together, his arms around her waist, her arms around his chest, legs wound together, and with her head tucked just beneath his, listening to the subtle, but constantly thrumming beat of his pulse, she couldn't imagine anywhere that she would rather be; the perfect, spiralling giddiness that settled and swooned from her chest to her fingertips was too enthralling to let go of.
"The last time we did this we could see the stars." Martin remarked, the bridge of his nose crinkling as he fidgeted and peered up at the sky, which was a murky brown and patchy with cloud cover.
"It's fine Martin." Deborah murmured, not bothering to lift her head, and instead watching the tiny little plane that took over the airfield on weekends begin to whir and hum on the runway, it's tiny passengers bumbling around it.
"I was expecting stars." Martin muttered in response, sounding truly put out by the weather's refusal to comply with his desires; even in the most romantic setting, he could find something that wasn't right, though that was simply one of the many quirks that Deborah rather liked.
"It's a cloudy night, and I think it's going to rain." Deborah remarked, raising herself up just enough to look him in the eye and place a small kiss on his lips, "On the up side, the horrible weather provides the perfect opportunity for a cuddle."
"Hmmm, that is an upside." Martin hummed, the irritation on his face fading as his cheeks lit up, and he used the hand on Deborah's back to pull her down for another kiss; this time it lasted, and Deborah let herself sink into the sensations of his lips, his cheeks against hers, before pulling back, tingling with contentment.
Once she had laid her head back where it belonged, tucked beside his, Deborah and Martin snuggled closer for a while, happy to watch the other residents of the airfield potter about and prepare the little planes for flight. Then Martin sat up a little, tilting his head down so that he could peer across to the runway.
"Did Old Man get a girlfriend in the two weeks that I was gone?" Martin inquired bemusedly, as he continued to stare out at the tiny plane and its passengers, of which Deborah noted with from a fleeting glance, there was one extra.
"I think so," Deborah replied, not bothering to watch with him; if anything interesting happened, Martin would tell her, "though this is the first time I've seen her actually get in his plane."
"Oh dear." Martin chuckled, lowering his voice to a furtive whisper, as if they might be overheard; the sensation of his breath whistling past her ear made Deborah fidget, and giggle slightly, against her will, "I don't think Old Man's going to have a girlfriend for much longer."
"Oh, I don't know." Deborah remarked wryly, still fighting a giggle as Martin shifted enough to meet her eyes, and quirk his eyebrows demonstratively, trying to lure her into sharing his hilarity, "You've almost crashed our plane lots of times and I still love you."
"Not lots of times-" Martin began to insist, shrugging with the statement, but Deborah thwacked him lightly on the chest, catching her hand in the folds of his coat as she did.
"That wasn't the important bit, Martin." Deborah scolded him lightly, abandoning her attempt to extract her hand, and instead using the opportunity to snuggle that little bit closer, relishing the extra warmth that he provided.
"Sorry." Martin apologised softly, and he lay back down, tipping his head and pressing his cheek against her hair; she might have been wrong, but she swore that he inhaled deeply, as if trying to breathe in as much of her as he could, "I love you too Deborah."
They stayed like that for a while, idly watching the planes turn and circles and whizz about around them, although, Deborah thought that she didn't pay quite as much attention as Martin did, as she was far too preoccupied with closing her eyes and relaxing into his warmth. Then, from nowhere, she was startled awake by tiny pinpricks against her cheeks, which morphed into icy, wet, persistent little drops.
"Oh, fantastic." Martin cursed, as he sat up straight, bring Deborah with him however sluggishly, and began shoving his arm across his face as he grimaced at the rain that began to pelt them, growing faster and heavier with each second, "That's great that is."
"Just put your hood up." Deborah chucked, wiping the water from her eyes, but realising that trying to do anything constructive with her hair, that was already hanging in wet clumps around her face and shoulders, was a lost cause; swiftly, she reached around Martin's neck and pulled his hood up for him, reacting at twice the speed that he was, "There…"
"Thank you, dear." Martin drawled sarcastically, smirking despairingly from beneath his hood, already looking like a drowned kitten, with his ginger ruffles more of a woody brown that made the freckles on his cheeks shine out.
"My pleasure, darling." Deborah drawled, and grinning, she leaned in for a kiss, blinking away the speckles that caught between them as she felt Martin chuckling and his chest shaking where her hands laced into his coat, and he slipped his arm around her waist; they only broke apart when rumble like the heavens being torn open, though far, far in the distance, made Deborah jerk backwards.
"Was that thunder?" Deborah demanded, staring wide eyed around them, turning her head this way and that, and something in her chest clenched; rain was one thing, but a full on storm was an entirely different one, "I think that was thunder."
"There's no need to be scared." Martin assured her, the smirk in his tone evident from where she sat; Deborah calmed enough to raise an eyebrow at him, but he didn't seem to get the message, "I'm here to protect you, remember."
"I'm not scared." Deborah replied curtly, crossing her arms over her chest and rising to her knees, ready to move if needs be, "I'm just very aware of the fact that we're on a metal roof."
"Oh, god, yes, um." Martin's expression grew panicky all of a sudden, and Deborah slid along the roof towards where they had parked the van, a handy step down, before he could say any more; she must have convinced him, as all the way down he could be heard clunking and yelling at her, "Careful – don't slip!"
It wasn't until the both of them were tucked up on the wide front seat of the van, doors securely locked, soggy coats abandoned, and the heating turned up as high as it went, that silence truly fell, if it could be called that when the rain was pelting out a miniature samba on the shell.
"I don't really want to drive in the storm." Martin remarked into the quiet, as the two of them stared through the windscreen at the miniscule flashes of light that were beginning to appear on the horizon; Deborah was well aware that nothing could happen, and secure enough, but that didn't stop her from sitting, legs propped up and curled beneath her, and pressed against Martin's side as he curled reflexively around her, one arm around her waist, keeping them together in a way that seemed just that little bit more intimate than the cuddle on the roof.
"Then we'll stay here until it stops." Deborah replied, her voice barely more than a whisper, as if too many sudden noises or movements might startle the storm into finding them; she wasn't scared, because that would have been ridiculous.
"Okay." Martin agreed softly; he shifted slightly, so that he could curl around her just that tiny amount more, bringing Deborah to rest against him properly, so that his other arm could add a pinch more support where he held her, "You sure you're okay with that?"
"Absolutely." Deborah answered lightly, then lapsed into silence once more; huddled together in the van, trying desperately to ignore what was going on outside, Deborah couldn't help but feel pulled by the lurching sensations in her chest, entranced by the alluring stability of Martin's tangible form against her, breathing in and out, rising and falling, just there, and the words fell from her tongue before they had truly made it through her mind, "I'm really glad you came home."
"Yeah?" Martin sighed, the hope in his voice carrying it as if on feathery wings, just a breath against her cheek, while his fingers danced at her waist, and at her elbow, "You're not still mad at me for throwing everything away?"
"No. No, I'm not." Deborah answered truthfully, softly; somehow, it felt like the hushed tones, echoed on the metal walls around them, made the words all the more real, "Do you really think you'll be happier doing all of those things with me?"
"What things?" Martin inquired, tilting his head back just enough that his eyes could follow the lines on her face, and she could see the crinkling of his nose, and the knitting of his eyebrows that sang of his bewilderment,
"You know…" Deborah replied, shrugging infinitesimally, the movement making the both of them rock slightly; it was dangerous territory, like walking on ice that had been hovering over a geyser, but she couldn't help herself, "getting married, and all."
"Yeah." Martin said after a moment, his throat bobbing anxiously as he did; Deborah's heart may have skipped, not a beat, but a literal hop, and she had to blink fast until his next words caught in her ears and made her pause, "I think…"
"What?" Deborah asked, her fingers flexing and curling around the folds of his shirt, picking at the loose threads as she barely dared to lift her head and meet his eyes.
"I think that, w-well…obviously, we're not there yet, a-and we're not ready." Martin stuttered, but a soft, gentle stuttering, lacking the frantic edge that much of his conversation held; she could feel him swallow again, but his arm tightened around her waist, so she hardly noticed the crack of thunder outside, "But, when it starts to feel like we are, I'm not going to leap into it."
"What do you mean?" Deborah asked again, this time letting curiosity left her head, shift her back just so slightly so that she could look into Martin's eyes, her gaze wandering from his lips which were wet and chapped from constant gnawing.
"Well, I've seen what happens when I outright ask you for things, or, actually, when you ask me for things." Martin remarked dryly, smirking slightly, as if at some private joke, "We both have a habit of just saying no- I think mostly it wasn't even for good reasons, we're just really stubborn."
"Speak for yourself." Deborah scoffed, and that was enough to have the both of them carried away by a fleeting bout of laughter, quiet and soft; when they had settled against each other again, it was more forward facing, so that they could have seen through the windscreen had they not been looking at each other.
"Okay, fine, I earned that." Martin acknowledged, nodding and rolling his eyes, before shrugging again, as if he hadn't quite decided what the best course of action was, "But…if I, I mean, when I want to marry you, and I'm sure that that's the right thing to do, I-I'm not going to leap out and surprise you, o-or ambush you in a public place when you can't say no."
"What are you going to do?" Deborah inquired, unable to keep the faint smile from her lips as she lifted a hand to brush lightly over Martin's cheek; he did pay attention, enough at least to know how she felt about her last marriages, enough to actively avoid making the same sorts of mistakes.
"I don't know, something romantic, probably." Martin replied, shrugging nonchalantly and plastering on a debonair smile, so confident already that this was all going to go to plan, "My point is…you've done the marriage thing, and I'm thinking that it's getting a bit worn out, getting asked and saying yes, and doing all the stuff…so, I think I'm just going to ask, not if you want to marry me, but if you're okay with me asking."
"You're going to ask if you can ask to marry me?" Deborah repeated, just for clarification, as she leaned back just a fraction and quirked an eyebrow at him; that was so typically, wonderfully Martin, that she didn't think that the idea would ever leave her mind.
"Yes. Because, that way, I know that you're not saying yes just because I've asked." Martin explained, in that self-assured way that only he could pull off, "If it's okay to ask you, then you're ready, but if you're not ready, you can say no, and I won't ask, no harm done. What do you think?"
"I think you're hopeless." Deborah replied fondly, propping herself over him with one elbow against the roughly padded seat of the van.
"Oh." Martin's face fell, and he looked momentarily disappointed with himself, turning his head away; now, that wouldn't do at all, Deborah thought, and without a word, she ducked her head down to press a kiss to his lips, lingering as his hands clenched at her back, tangling in her jumper, before pulling back a few mere inches.
"I rather like you that way." Deborah drawled, barely louder than a whisper, as she traced the tip of her finger over Martin's cheekbone, and then his lips, cherishing the moment of realisation as it entered his eyes.
"Oh…" Martin breathed, his eyes widening as they stared into hers, and his cheeks flushing an even darker shade of scarlet than they already were, while he managed if possible, to pull her even closer.
"Yes, oh." Deborah echoed affectionately, pecking him lightly once again; then, as Martin's eyes flickered over her face, and she was filled with the warm, pleasant, exhilarating certainty that everything was going to be just fine, she allowed herself to be pulled just that fraction closer, enough that Martin tipped backwards into the remaining patch of seat behind him, and she could fall atop him, caught in his arms with her legs either side of him, "Now protect me from the storm."
I did it! Still not the end, but a bit of a break, as I have to get up at midnight tonight to drive to the airport - you're very lucky you got this.
As I mentioned, there may not be wifi, so if I don't reply to comments, then that's why. : )