Fic: A New Man - Cabin Pressure - Martin/Theresa
Rating: PG
Summary: The morning after Duxford, the day after Vaduz.
Pairings: Martin/Theresa
Warnings: Spoilers for Cabin Pressure 4x03 "Vaduz".
Author's note: So instead of writing things I was supposed to be writing (like Sherlock fics), I listened to Vaduz and this happened. I couldn't decide whether to toss it, post it or expand it. I went for the middle-ground. :)
“You're Martin's ... girlfriend?” asked Megan.
The students were all standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the woman who was calmly having her breakfast at the table. Hassan was open-mouthed with surprise and Liam had even brushed aside his trendy long fringe to get a better look.
"I am Princess Theresa of Liechtenstein and I am Captain Martin Crieff's girlfriend, yes," she said, surveying them all like ... well, a bit like a monarch surveying her subjects.
The students gawped at her. Then they noticed Martin, standing in the doorway in his old t-shirt and tracksuit bottom, and gawped at him too. Mind you, he was doing a fair amount of gawping himself because Theresa looked stunning with her hair loose and apparently wearing nothing but one of his shirts.
To be honest, he'd expected her to be gone. She was still asleep on his single bed when he woke up, so he had got dressed in the dark and slipped out to go to the loo and shave. By the time he came back to the attic bedroom, Theresa was nowhere to be seen, which was disappointing but not unexpected. He'd been here before, the first time he managed to convince a girl to sleep with him; she'd slipped away before he woke up and to be honest, he didn't mind much. She hadn't been very interested in planes.
But Theresa was different. Their day at Duxford had been perfect. Well, mostly. Martin had borrowed Douglas's car first thing in the morning to drive them to Fitton airfield - he even managed to escape Douglas's house without incurring too many scathing remarks about wearing his best clothes and shoes on a visit to an aviation museum. When he went to pick Theresa up from the hotel, she was waiting in the lobby for him, which was a surprise as he'd sort of expected her to change her mind and stand him up.
Carolyn had agreed to let Martin take Gerti - probably fearful of incurring Theresa’s royal wrath if she refused - though she had apparently got her own back by telling all the ground staff that Martin was taking his girlfriend on a date so there were a lot of unnecessary jokes about them being a "mile high".
The short flight was fun. Theresa sat in the co-pilot's seat though Martin didn't let her touch any of the controls - she had taken lessons but had never qualified. They talked about planes, like the jet her father had owned, and he explained why Microsoft Flight had been such a failure - she heartily concurred - and then the trip was over all too soon. He half wished he had opted to drive after all, even if the journey would have taken over two and a half hours, and Martin had never once driven on the M25 without getting stuck somewhere.
Wearing his best shoes turned out to be a mistake; by the end of the morning, Martin’s feet were aching and when he tried to put his shoes back on after lunch in the cafeteria, he found he couldn’t face it. Theresa’s handbag was too small when she offered to carry them for him, so Martin resorted to tying the shoelaces together so he could hang them around his neck, which made him look like a right wally. He was feeling dejected, certain that this would be his first and last outing with Theresa, and consoling himself with the thought that she would be returning to Liechtenstein in a couple of days so any romance would be doomed anyway, when she kissed him under a suspended A-10 Thunderbolt II.
Theresa held his hand after that, as if she didn’t mind that he was wandering around the museum in his socks, his shoes slung around his neck like some drunken reveller. By the time they were nearing the end of their tour, Martin felt confident enough to kiss Theresa too, pulling her into a soft, open-mouthed kiss which would have been perfect if he hadn’t inadvertently done this in front of a group of schoolchildren who all started chanting “Snoggers! Snoggers!”. They kissed again outside on their way back to Gerti, with Martin’s socked feet in a puddle.
On the flight home, Martin felt compelled to tell Theresa everything; about failing his test and the van and the attic and not being paid and how Douglas and Carolyn always outsmarted him. He thought it would be better to have it all in the open, because after those kisses, he didn’t think he could stand the disappointment of her dumping him if they went any further.
But she kissed him and he let her do some co-piloting, reflecting how nice it was to have Theresa teasing him for a change instead of Douglas. They had dinner in town and then he took her back to his place - well, his attic, which he wasn't particularly proud of, though it was tidier than the rest of the shared house. And now ...
“You - you’re here,” stuttered Martin, still standing in the doorway with all the students watching him.
“Oh, Martin, you are so perceptive,” exclaimed Theresa. The students turned to look at her and then back at Martin, like cats watching a yoyo. The princess patted the chair beside her. “Come here and I will make you tea, like the English, with milk.”
Martin obediently sat down, still wondering if this was all a dream. Theresa wrapped her arms around him and he kissed her. God, kissing her was nice.
“You’re, like, really his girlfriend?” asked Hassan.
“And you’re really a princess?” asked Megan.
Liam never said much of anything from behind his curtain of hair, but he was no doubt expressing emo thoughts of similar disbelief.
“Yes, a princess and his girlfriend, and if you are so interested, he is an amazing lover. Now, go!” she said, waving a regal hand in the direction of the living-room.
Recognising the voice of true authority, the youths slinked off into the living-room like a pack of cowardly hyenas. Theresa turned her attention to Martin and laughed.
“You are blushing,” she said, picking up her empty breakfast bowl and standing up. “Even the top of your head is red."
She kissed the small - very small! - patch of bare scalp right at the top of Martin’s head and swaned into the kitchen area.
“So you - you’re - we’re actually ... I mean, you don’t, well, you're not having second thoughts?” said Martin, though even as he spoke, he felt as though he had stumbled into a hole with a shovel and had started digging. “I know you like aeroplanes, but I’m sure you’ve met other pilots who don’t have, you know, the attic and the van and the, well, me?”
Theresa looked innocently puzzled. “The ... you?” Her eyes widened. “Oh. You are a pilot who works as a delivery man and you live in the attic of a house full of students half your age. You are shorter than me and you have a bald patch. You are right. I have met a lot of other pilots who are tall and handsome and think they are the greatest thing to happen to skies since rainbows! I'm sure you know the type.”
“Yes,” said Martin, still uncertain, though he had a feeling she was teasing him again. “I’ve met a couple of those too.”
“What was I thinking?” continued Theresa. “I couldn’t possibly be considering staying longer in Fitton so I can get to know you better, so we can spend some more time talking about aeroplanes and I can teach you how to have sex without knocking the bedside lamp onto your lover." Theresa waggled her finger at him. "I know you are a slow learner since you took your pilot’s test so often, so we will need to practice a lot. At least several times a day!"
"A-At least several times a day?" said Martin, trying to play along even though there was a happy grin struggling to burst out. "I think, yes, I think that would probably help."
"Yes, it might take months," she said with a wave of her arms. "Perhaps even a lifetime."
Martin’s smile broke through and he considered that maybe, his luck had changed for the better at last. He felt like a new man already.
“Oh, and Martin, darling?”
“Yes?”
“Your trousers are inside out.”
Well, maybe not an entirely new man.
Summary: The morning after Duxford, the day after Vaduz.
Pairings: Martin/Theresa
Warnings: Spoilers for Cabin Pressure 4x03 "Vaduz".
Author's note: So instead of writing things I was supposed to be writing (like Sherlock fics), I listened to Vaduz and this happened. I couldn't decide whether to toss it, post it or expand it. I went for the middle-ground. :)
“You're Martin's ... girlfriend?” asked Megan.
The students were all standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the woman who was calmly having her breakfast at the table. Hassan was open-mouthed with surprise and Liam had even brushed aside his trendy long fringe to get a better look.
"I am Princess Theresa of Liechtenstein and I am Captain Martin Crieff's girlfriend, yes," she said, surveying them all like ... well, a bit like a monarch surveying her subjects.
The students gawped at her. Then they noticed Martin, standing in the doorway in his old t-shirt and tracksuit bottom, and gawped at him too. Mind you, he was doing a fair amount of gawping himself because Theresa looked stunning with her hair loose and apparently wearing nothing but one of his shirts.
To be honest, he'd expected her to be gone. She was still asleep on his single bed when he woke up, so he had got dressed in the dark and slipped out to go to the loo and shave. By the time he came back to the attic bedroom, Theresa was nowhere to be seen, which was disappointing but not unexpected. He'd been here before, the first time he managed to convince a girl to sleep with him; she'd slipped away before he woke up and to be honest, he didn't mind much. She hadn't been very interested in planes.
But Theresa was different. Their day at Duxford had been perfect. Well, mostly. Martin had borrowed Douglas's car first thing in the morning to drive them to Fitton airfield - he even managed to escape Douglas's house without incurring too many scathing remarks about wearing his best clothes and shoes on a visit to an aviation museum. When he went to pick Theresa up from the hotel, she was waiting in the lobby for him, which was a surprise as he'd sort of expected her to change her mind and stand him up.
Carolyn had agreed to let Martin take Gerti - probably fearful of incurring Theresa’s royal wrath if she refused - though she had apparently got her own back by telling all the ground staff that Martin was taking his girlfriend on a date so there were a lot of unnecessary jokes about them being a "mile high".
The short flight was fun. Theresa sat in the co-pilot's seat though Martin didn't let her touch any of the controls - she had taken lessons but had never qualified. They talked about planes, like the jet her father had owned, and he explained why Microsoft Flight had been such a failure - she heartily concurred - and then the trip was over all too soon. He half wished he had opted to drive after all, even if the journey would have taken over two and a half hours, and Martin had never once driven on the M25 without getting stuck somewhere.
Wearing his best shoes turned out to be a mistake; by the end of the morning, Martin’s feet were aching and when he tried to put his shoes back on after lunch in the cafeteria, he found he couldn’t face it. Theresa’s handbag was too small when she offered to carry them for him, so Martin resorted to tying the shoelaces together so he could hang them around his neck, which made him look like a right wally. He was feeling dejected, certain that this would be his first and last outing with Theresa, and consoling himself with the thought that she would be returning to Liechtenstein in a couple of days so any romance would be doomed anyway, when she kissed him under a suspended A-10 Thunderbolt II.
Theresa held his hand after that, as if she didn’t mind that he was wandering around the museum in his socks, his shoes slung around his neck like some drunken reveller. By the time they were nearing the end of their tour, Martin felt confident enough to kiss Theresa too, pulling her into a soft, open-mouthed kiss which would have been perfect if he hadn’t inadvertently done this in front of a group of schoolchildren who all started chanting “Snoggers! Snoggers!”. They kissed again outside on their way back to Gerti, with Martin’s socked feet in a puddle.
On the flight home, Martin felt compelled to tell Theresa everything; about failing his test and the van and the attic and not being paid and how Douglas and Carolyn always outsmarted him. He thought it would be better to have it all in the open, because after those kisses, he didn’t think he could stand the disappointment of her dumping him if they went any further.
But she kissed him and he let her do some co-piloting, reflecting how nice it was to have Theresa teasing him for a change instead of Douglas. They had dinner in town and then he took her back to his place - well, his attic, which he wasn't particularly proud of, though it was tidier than the rest of the shared house. And now ...
“You - you’re here,” stuttered Martin, still standing in the doorway with all the students watching him.
“Oh, Martin, you are so perceptive,” exclaimed Theresa. The students turned to look at her and then back at Martin, like cats watching a yoyo. The princess patted the chair beside her. “Come here and I will make you tea, like the English, with milk.”
Martin obediently sat down, still wondering if this was all a dream. Theresa wrapped her arms around him and he kissed her. God, kissing her was nice.
“You’re, like, really his girlfriend?” asked Hassan.
“And you’re really a princess?” asked Megan.
Liam never said much of anything from behind his curtain of hair, but he was no doubt expressing emo thoughts of similar disbelief.
“Yes, a princess and his girlfriend, and if you are so interested, he is an amazing lover. Now, go!” she said, waving a regal hand in the direction of the living-room.
Recognising the voice of true authority, the youths slinked off into the living-room like a pack of cowardly hyenas. Theresa turned her attention to Martin and laughed.
“You are blushing,” she said, picking up her empty breakfast bowl and standing up. “Even the top of your head is red."
She kissed the small - very small! - patch of bare scalp right at the top of Martin’s head and swaned into the kitchen area.
“So you - you’re - we’re actually ... I mean, you don’t, well, you're not having second thoughts?” said Martin, though even as he spoke, he felt as though he had stumbled into a hole with a shovel and had started digging. “I know you like aeroplanes, but I’m sure you’ve met other pilots who don’t have, you know, the attic and the van and the, well, me?”
Theresa looked innocently puzzled. “The ... you?” Her eyes widened. “Oh. You are a pilot who works as a delivery man and you live in the attic of a house full of students half your age. You are shorter than me and you have a bald patch. You are right. I have met a lot of other pilots who are tall and handsome and think they are the greatest thing to happen to skies since rainbows! I'm sure you know the type.”
“Yes,” said Martin, still uncertain, though he had a feeling she was teasing him again. “I’ve met a couple of those too.”
“What was I thinking?” continued Theresa. “I couldn’t possibly be considering staying longer in Fitton so I can get to know you better, so we can spend some more time talking about aeroplanes and I can teach you how to have sex without knocking the bedside lamp onto your lover." Theresa waggled her finger at him. "I know you are a slow learner since you took your pilot’s test so often, so we will need to practice a lot. At least several times a day!"
"A-At least several times a day?" said Martin, trying to play along even though there was a happy grin struggling to burst out. "I think, yes, I think that would probably help."
"Yes, it might take months," she said with a wave of her arms. "Perhaps even a lifetime."
Martin’s smile broke through and he considered that maybe, his luck had changed for the better at last. He felt like a new man already.
“Oh, and Martin, darling?”
“Yes?”
“Your trousers are inside out.”
Well, maybe not an entirely new man.