FIC: Thistle and Weeds

[chess_ka]

Title: Thistle and Weeds
Pairings: Martin / OMC(s)
Rating: NC-17 (Warning: non-con)
Disclaimer: Cabin Pressure is written by John Finnemore, and is a Pozzitive Production for the BBC! I am, in no way, shape, or form, associated with either.
Summary: Written for this prompt on the kinkmeme. Martin has a man he considers his boyfriend, but said boyfriend is a nasty piece of work who treats Martin appallingly. With a little help along the way from MJN, Martin begins to move on and find happiness.

Many thanks to lady_t_220 for being a lovely beta reader and helping me to get this fic cleaned up.

Thistle and Weeds
Part One: Tearing the Seams
Part Two: Alone in this Winter
Part Three: Hold On
Part Four: Plant Your Hope With Good Seeds



Part Four: Plant Your Hope With Good Seeds

Several days later finds them in bed. It is a Sunday, and neither of them have to be anywhere. Martin had stumbled in late the previous night, jet-leg kicking in after spending three days hopping across America. He had flopped down on the sofa, head in Daniel's lap, and sighed with relief. “Why is America so huge?” he complained. Daniel chuckled and put down his book in favour of stroking Martin's hair.

“Poor darling,” he had said, smiling. His clever fingers threaded through hair, working into Martin's scalp and making him push up into the contact, practically purring from the sensation. “Come on, sleepy head, I think you need to crash for a few hours.”

“Mm. Carry me.” He rolled over onto his side, pressing his face into Daniel's stomach.

“Not bloody likely,” Daniel laughed. “Up with you, lazy bones.”

Now it is late on a Sunday morning, and Martin stirs into wakefulness, blinking against the light.

“Good morning,” Daniel rumbles sleepily. Martin loves that Daniel's accent thickens when he has just woken up. He rolls over to face him, snuggling in close.

“Morning,” he murmurs, smiling. Daniel caresses his cheek, then tugs him in for a gentle kiss.

Releasing Martin's mouth, Daniel continues to press kisses all over his face: the tip of his nose, over his brows, his eyelids, his forehead, the curve of his cheekbones, then down across his jawline to his throat. He can't help the slight whimper that escapes him as Daniel sucks lightly at his earlobe, presses warm lips to the sensitive spot just behind his ear, and next thing he knows he is on his back with Daniel lying half over him, mouthing at his throat.

He touches Daniel rather helplessly, petting his thick hair, clutching at his shoulders and back. Daniel makes small sounds of approval as his mouth travels lower, skimming over Martin's too-prominent collarbone, biting at his shoulders. He moves slowly, as though exploring; Daniel has done this frequently since that night on the sofa, spending simply hours mapping out Martin's body with hands and mouth, though never pushing further than he had done that night.

Daniel's mouth is back on Martin's, and he licks questioningly at Martin's lower lip, seeking permission. Martin gasps against the kiss, willingly opening his mouth to Daniel, stroking the hot tongue with his own. One of Daniel's hands is on his thigh, running up and down and making Martin's breathing stutter against the kiss, and finally unable to hold back a groan as Daniel's palm cups the hot flesh between his legs. He wraps his fingers around Martin's cock, playing with him idly until he is fully hard and gasping.

Then suddenly the warm hand is gone and Martin begins to protest, but Daniel kisses him fiercely and then the hand is back, this time wonderfully slick with lubricant from the bedside table. “Love doing this for you,” Daniel murmurs roughly, biting at the hinge of Martin's jaw as his hand begins to move. “I could watch you for hours.”

“Yes,” whispers Martin, pushing up into Daniel's fist. Daniels grins against his neck and sets about taking him to pieces.

Martin had thought that barely anything could feel better than Daniel's hand on him that first time, but the other man has spent a great deal of time proving him wrong. Now, he is putting all of that knowledge into practice. Martin is soon completely incoherent, shuddering and clutching at Daniel as he begs for more. Every time he does this, every time he can feel his orgasm approaching, Daniel backs off, relaxing his grip and kissing away Martin's protests.

The fourth time he does this, letting his fingers go lax, Martin all but sobs in frustration, trying desperately to push up into a friction that is no longer there. He cannot take much more of this, he cannot, but at the same time it is wonderful, so wonderful to be the focus of Daniel's attentions, to be brought to this again and again and oh he is so close and he wants to come so much it hurts but he doesn't want this to be over, wants to stay here surrounded by Daniel for hours, days...

Daniel begins to stroke again and Martin buries his face in the hot, damp neck, clutching at the broad shoulders and he can't keep this up. “Please, Daniel, please I need to... I need...”

“Yes,” Daniel whispers against his ear. “Yes, I want you to come. Yes, Martin, yes.” And with one final, firm pull Martin's vision whites out, the familiar pressure tightening in his groin and then his release is spilling between them as he tries without success to muffle his moans against Daniel's throat. Daniel's hand is still on his cock, working him through his orgasm and wringing out every last shudder and whimper.

Martin is limp and shaking when it is over, and Daniel strokes his hair, murmuring to him, “Relax, it's all right, I've got you. God, that was incredible, you know that? You did so well...”

Before he has even got his breath back Martin reaches for Daniel, slicking his palm in the come streaked across his stomach. “Now you,” he says urgently. “Want to do that for you, want to make you feel like that. Daniel...”

He knows Daniel better now, knows the pace and pressure to set. Daniel's mouth blurs against Martin's as Martin rubs a thumb over the slick head of his cock, adding a slight twist to his fingers at the end of each stroke that has Daniel groaning. He reaches further down, cups his palm around the hot balls already pulled tight against Daniel's body, rolling them gently as Daniel curses and groans, his eyes screwed tightly shut.

Daniel begins to thrust his hips into Martin's fist, clutching at his shoulders. Martin watches wide-eyed, trying to take in all of Daniel's reactions, every muscle twitch, every eyebrow shift, and he has to kiss him, has to reach up and press his tongue fiercely into Daniel's mouth and murmur against his lips. “You're amazing, so amazing. I want you to come, I want to feel you come in my hand, God Daniel, you have no idea-” and Daniel is gasping on Martin's name as he tips over the edge, warmth spattering across Martin's stomach.

Daniel slumps down beside Martin, gasping for breath with his eyes closed. Martin shifts onto his side so he can watch him, basking in contentment at the idea of a lazy post-sex Sunday in bed with a lovely, lovely man.

Daniel must sense he is being watched, because he turns his head, opening his eyes. He quirks a smile at the sight of Martin propped on an elbow watching him. “Good morning,” he says simply.
________________

“Skip! Skip! SKIP!” Martin has only just opened the door to the portacabin before he is almost knocked backwards by Hurricane Arthur. “SKIP!”

“My god, Arthur, it's far too early in the morning for that!” Martin exclaims, trying to fend off their over-excited steward. “What on earth is going on?”

“Did you not remember, Martin?” Douglas is sitting with his feet up on the rickety table, ostensibly not doing his paperwork. “It's now a week until Arthur's birthday.”

“Oh! Oh, right. Well, er. Good?”

“And Mum says because I'll be thirty, which is important for some reason, I can have a big party!”

Martin shares a bewildered look with Douglas. “I hated turning thirty,” he says, pulling out a chair and sinking into it whilst Arthur bounds over to the kettle. “Thought 'this is it, it's all downhill from here, and you never really got up the hill in the first place.'”

“People always make the mistake of thinking it's over at thirty,” Douglas rumbles. “I thoroughly enjoyed my years of thirty-five to forty. Are you thirty-five yet, Martin?”

“Thirty-three still. My birthday's not til October. I think thirty-four might turn out to be my favourite age so far, though.”

“Are we invited to your party, Arthur?” Douglas calls over his shoulder.

“Obviously!” comes the exclamation. “You chaps are top of the list! You can bring people if you want as well, there's enough room. I want to meet your boyfriend, Skip!” Arthur hands Martin a mug of tea, beaming.

“When is it?”

“Next weekend, on Saturday. It's going to be brilliant.”
_______________

“I thought you'd be nervous,” Daniel comments. “Meeting the family and everything.”

“I am nervous!” Martin exclaims, almost-but-not-quite burning his hand as he spills hot water in an attempt to make tea. “Can you not tell?”

“You're hiding it very well.” Arms wrap around his waist and Daniel's cheek rubs into his hair.

“Liar.”

“Ouch. You wound me.”

Martin chuckles, trying to awkwardly bin the teabags and pour milk with Daniel refusing to let go of him. “All right, limpet, tea's up,” he says eventually, wriggling free.

After breakfast Martin is about to head to the shower when Daniel grabs him and pulls him in for a sweet, tea-flavoured kiss. “Can I ask you something?” he murmurs against Martin's mouth.

“Mm?” Martin isn't really listening, concentrating on trying to deepen the kiss again.

“I know it's possibly not the greatest timing but... I was wondering. And say no if you like, I'll understand, I promise. But I've been thinking, and I think, well...”

“Get on with it,” Martin mutters before Daniel descends into a nervous blather.

“Would you like to move in?”

Martin pulls back to stare at Daniel wide-eyed, sure he has heard wrong. “Move in? Here? With you?”

“Here,” agrees Daniel. “With me.”

“Really?”

“Yes! I mean, I know it might be a bit fast, we've only been together for three months, but you're here all the time and when you're not I miss you and you hate your place anyway-”

Martin seizes the back of Daniel's head, knotting his fingers in the thick hair, and yanks him into an enthusiastic kiss. “Is this a yes?” Daniel manages to gasp out.

“Yes,” Martin mutters, biting at Daniel's lower lip. “Yes, of course I bloody well will.” Daniel beams and leans forward and they lose themselves in a few minutes of fierce kissing. Eventually they have to pause to catch their breaths, foreheads together. “Daniel?”

“Yeah?”

“We've been together for three months, one week and one day. For the record.”
________________________

“Bloody hell.” They pull up in Daniel's battered Corsa, and Daniel's mouth falls open at the sight of Carolyn's rather impressive house. “Your boss lives here? I thought the company was always about to go bust.”

“It is,” Martin sighs. “It's a long story.”

He feels nervous now, about introducing Daniel to the rest of MJN. It had been said as a joke, but it does feel like meeting the family; he has no intention of introducing Daniel to Caitlin or Simon any time soon. He is also trying very hard not to think about the last time he was at Carolyn's house. As they walk across the gravel driveway, Daniel looks at him carefully.

“All right?”

“I will be.” He tries to sound confident. Daniel takes his hand as they walk and squeezes tightly. Martin squeezes back, wondering whether he can hang onto Daniel's hand for the rest of the party.

“SKIP!” Martin finds himself once more with an armful of Arthur mere seconds after he rang the doorbell. Arthur almost lifts him clean off his feet in his enthusiasm.

“Happy birthday, Arthur,” he gasps, massaging his ribs as he spoke. “This is Daniel.”

“Hi Daniel!” Arthur all but shouts, wringing Daniel's hand.

“Hullo Arthur. Happy birthday! I've heard a lot about you.”

“Wow! You're Scottish!”

“Er, yes?”

“Arthur,” exclaims Martin in exasperation. “We fly people of every nationality to countries all over the world. Is it still a novelty to meet non-English people?”

“Oh, yeah!”

“My God,” Daniel murmurs to Martin as they follow Arthur into the house. “You weren't exaggerating about him.”

“Not even a little,” Martin agrees.

The party seems to take up the kitchen, living room and garden, which the living room opens onto through French doors. There are a lot of people there that Martin doesn't recognise, but they are heralded by Douglas as soon as they step outside.

“Ah, if it isn't our gallant captain!”

“Hi, Douglas. This is-”

“Daniel, I presume?” Douglas shakes Daniel's hand, his face friendly but Martin can see a hard glint in his eye. He steels himself, waiting for some sarcastic Douglas comment.

“That's me,” Daniel responds cheerfully, clearly not seeing the glint. “And you're Douglas. You're pretty much exactly how I imagined you.”

“I like to think of myself as larger than life,” says Douglas airily. “Drinks? There's some excellent wine, Martin. You remember that red Arthur mulled?”

“Oh God, don't tell me-”

“No, no! I don't think Arthur's been let near it. Yet. I'd swoop in and get some before he finds some tic tacs.”

Wine successfully retrieved, they find themselves a table on the patio. Douglas is asking Daniel about his work at the university, which Daniel loves to talk about. Martin is content to sip his wine and listen with half an ear. He almost jumps when Daniel's hand comes to rest on his knee, and he can't help but smile at him like an idiot.

__________________

Carolyn knocks back a glass of red wine more quickly than she should, but she feels she deserves it now that the party is finally going. There are plenty of people, and one thing about Arthur is that he is a very good host, happy to chat to everybody and keeps an eye on drinks. She knows she can leave him to it.

Making her way out onto the patio she sees Douglas and Martin at a table, in the company of a fairly handsome dark-haired man, who is sitting very close to her captain. Ah, she remembers, Martin's new beau.

She has felt enormously protective over Martin over the previous months, keeping more of an eye on him than she imagines he noticed. He has certainly been a great deal happier since this chap came onto the scene, but she intends to have a chat with whatever-his-name-is, to check that everything is ship shape.

She sails over to the table and pulls up a chair. “Good afternoon, drivers!” They mutter their usual greetings.

“Ah, you must be the boss?” The boyfriend smiles at her, eyes crinkling behind his glasses and good lord, he has dimples. She finds herself strangely approving of Martin's taste.

“Carolyn Knapp-Shappey,” she says, offering a hand, which he shakes firmly.

“Daniel Hayes.”

“You're from Edinburgh then, Daniel?” Carolyn hopes she's pegged the accent correctly.

“Originally, yes. My family crept ever more South when I was younger, but I never quite lost the accent.”

As they talk, Carolyn finds that she likes Daniel. He is easy-going, friendly, and interested in everything they are saying. He is also endearingly awkward at times, stumbling over words and getting himself muddled, in a way that is very reminiscent of Martin. She can't help but warm to him, particularly when she sees the way Martin looks at him, clearly besotted, and the way Daniel looks at Martin with similar adoration. They are quite sickening together.

She isn't prepared to let Daniel off the hook that easily, though and nor, it seems, is Douglas. When Martin leaves the table to get more drinks, and is accosted by Arthur halfway, they both turn to Daniel, who looks a little startled.

“I presume it's time for the Spanish inquisition,” he says mildly.

“Why would you think that?” says Douglas, though the fierce look on his face belies his innocent words.

“Well, I presumed that you'd all be feeling pretty worried about Martin seeing someone else now, so...”

“What has Martin told you about his last relationship?” asks Carolyn carefully. Daniel checks quickly over his shoulder.

“I'm only talking about this because I know you two know,” he says in a low voice, a hint of anger at the edges. “And, I mean, there are things that... are private. Between me and Martin. Well, obviously between me and Martin, but anyway, I'm not going to tell you anything that's just for us. All right?” At their nods he sighs, pushing up his glasses to rub his eyes. “I need you to know how much I lo- how much I care about him. I've had relationships before, though only two were serious, really, not that that matters, but sometimes people care about that kind of thing, but... anyway, I've never felt like this about anyone else. My last partner got a job in Canada and moved there, and I found I didn't care as much as I thought I would. I mean, I cared, obviously, that he was going and that our relationship was over, but I thought I'd be inconsolable or something but instead I was just... okay. It never occurred to me to move with him. But if Martin told me he was moving to the other side of the world? I'd up and go with him without a second thought.” He hesitates, looks thoughtful. Douglas and Carolyn remain quiet, watching him like a pair of hawks trying to decide whether to catch a mouse. “At first he just told me his last relationship had ended badly, and that he didn't want to rush things. Fair enough, you know, it can be really difficult starting afresh when you've had a messy breakup. But it was sort of... obvious that there was more to it than that. I felt like anything had the capacity to scare him away completely. Eventually he told me- well, I asked and he told- that his last partner had abused him.” Daniel's face darkens, and his voice tightens, as though he is struggling to control it. “If I ever find out who he was...”

“I broke his nose for him,” Douglas offers.

“You did?” Daniel and Carolyn say together.

“Oh yes. I wish I could have done more. Drunk out of his skull, coming out with all manner of disgusting and, frankly, unimaginative things. It seemed only proper to punch his lights out.”

“Well, good,” says Daniel. “Though God knows I'd still like to get my hands on him myself. Not that I'm capable of punching anyone. I could probably give him a good kick in the balls if it came to it.” He almost smiles, then sobers quickly. “Martin hasn't told me any details really, but just from how he's... reacted to some things... it makes me so furious I don't know what to do. I'd never hurt Martin. Ever.”

Daniel's expression is fierce, and Carolyn has to believe him. She nods.

“We had to talk to you,” she says briskly. “We've helped Martin a great deal through this-” she indicates herself and Douglas- “and we have no intention of letting him get into that situation again.”

Douglas nods in agreement. “I'd rather not have to pick up the pieces of Martin a second time. It's much more fun spending my days making endless fun of him.”

Martin reappears at that moment with a very giggly Arthur, who is exclaiming, “I told you I could drink it in one go!”

“I never doubted you,” Martin points out, setting down a tray of drinks. “In fact, I think I told you I believed you so you didn't have to do it.”

Arthur collapses into a chair, hiccuping slightly. Martin sits down with a roll of his eyes. “Arthur felt the need to prove to me that he could, in fact, drink an entire bottle of Coke in under two minutes.”

“Good lord,” Carolyn mutters, covering her eyes.

“And I was right!” Arthur cries.

“I bet I could do it in a minute thirty,” says Daniel, smirking.

Arthur's eyes widen, Douglas grins, and Martin groans. “No! Not you as well!”

“Well, I'm not drinking am I? I'm driving so you can get all boneless and sloshed and lisp at me, so two litres of Coke might be fun.”

“I do not lisp!”

“Oh, yes you do,” Daniel and Douglas say together, and then laugh. Martin goes red and buries his face in his hands. Daniel chuckles and wraps an arm around him, tugging him in against his side. “Would it help if I told you your lisping is, frankly, adorable?”

“Oh God,” Martin mutters. “You just called me adorable in front of Douglas. And Carolyn. Oh God. Kill me now.”

Douglas' grin has widened into one of true evil glee. “When's our next trip, Carolyn? I hope it's a good long one. I'm getting a lot of Martin ammo here.”

Later, when night has fallen and a lot of guests have gone home, they drag out the barbecue. Douglas, Daniel and Mark, an old friend of Carolyn's, are all vying for the place of head barbecuer, which mostly involves flinging insults at one another:

“Do they barbecue at public school, Douglas? I thought you'd have servants do it for you-”

“Oh bugger off and deep-fry something, Scottie!”

“As the only one present who could actually fix a car engine, I think I win on the man points...”

“I fly a plane for a living!”

“Yeah, and your captain is this guy's boyfriend. You lose.”

Martin, meanwhile, is sat contentedly on the patio step, his legs stretched out over the grass, a glass of wine sat beside him. He glances up as Carolyn settles herself beside him as though the stone step were a throne.

“He seems good for you,” she comments, nodding her head at Daniel.

“He is,” Martin agrees. He is watching Daniel's every move, his features softened with contentment. Carolyn suspects she should find it quite revolting, but really she is just happy for him.

“My God, you are completely gone on him, aren't you?”

Martin jerks back to reality with a start. “What?”

“You've gone all googly-eyed just looking at him.” There is a strange note in Carolyn's voice, and Martin glances at her, frowning. “I'm glad,” she says eventually, as though it is a great effort. “He seems to care about you a great deal.”

“He does,” says Martin, wonder in his voice. “He really does. It's so strange. No one's ever done that before.”

Carolyn watches him for a moment. He looks relaxed and happy, happier than she has ever seen him, although that may have something to do with the drink (she distinctly remembers having rather a lot of fun with Martin when he has had a few), but it clearly has a great deal to do with the man at the barbecue who he is gazing at with such open fondness. As she looks over, Daniel relinquishes the spatula, leaving Mark and Douglas to their squabbling. He sees Martin looking at him and smiles brightly. Carolyn excuses herself as Daniel comes over to sit beside him, moving to strike up a conversation with Mark's wife Jane, watching as indiscreetly as she can as Daniel wraps an arm around Martin's shoulders. Martin shuffles closer and puts his head on Daniel's shoulder, and a kiss is pressed into his hair before Daniel rests his head against Martin's.

Yes, Carolyn thinks, Martin will be all right.

_____________

“That was really fun,” says Daniel as he turns the ignition.

“It was,” agrees Martin happily, trying not to lisp too much. He turns his head so he can watch Daniel drive, feeling pleasantly buzzy from the wine.

When they get back to the flat, Martin immediately presses Daniel up against the wall of the hallway and kisses him. Daniel chuckles against the kiss, winding his arms around Martin's waist. “Hello,” he murmurs.

“'Lo,” says Martin happily, nuzzling at Daniel's neck. “'m a bit drunk I think.”

“I think so too,” says Daniel, running a hand up and down Martin's back. “Maybe I should take you to bed.”

“Mm, yes. Bed.” Martin begins to tug at Daniel's shirt. “No clothes in bed.”

Daniel laughs. “You're a saucy drunk, Captain Crieff.”

Martin frowns. “Are you making f-f-fun of me?”

“Never.” Daniel pulls him in close, yanks his T-shirt over his head, and proceeds to kiss him very thoroughly indeed. “I want to take you to bed.”

In the bedroom they proceed to struggle out of their clothes, slightly hindered by Martin's tipsy giggling and his seeming inability to work Daniel's zip. This is not helped when Daniel decides to dig his fingers into Martin's sides, tickling him mercilessly until his knees give way and he is gasping for mercy. Daniel is laughing, and therefore completely off-guard when Martin grabs him around the knees to tackle him to the floor before sitting firmly on his chest. “Got you,” he comments, grinning down at his captive partner.

“So you do,” Daniel agrees, running his hands up Martin's thighs to the edge of his boxers. “You are still far too dressed for this.”

“So are you!” Martin exclaims. “You have a whole extra layer on than me! That is three layers between us!”

“I was right,” Daniel comments, now running his palm over Martin's belly, watching the way his muscles shiver at the contact. “Your lisping is adorable.”

With some effort and rather a lot of giggling, they eventually get to their feet and undress, falling onto the bed with Daniel on top of Martin. He notes distantly that he does not even feel the slightest bit of discomfort at having Daniel stretched out on top of him, essentially pinning him down. Instead, he revels in being surrounded by Daniel's limbs, hemmed in by his warmth. He is being kissed hungrily and he responds just as greedily, wanting more.

Daniel kisses away from his mouth, down his jaw and throat and beginning to mouth over his chest. As his lips and tongue travel over Martin's chest he props himself slightly on his elbows to watch. As he does so, Daniel moves back to his mouth, pushing him back until he is half-sat against the headboard, a pillow behind his back. “Better,” Daniel says happily, and begins kissing down Martin's torso again.

As Daniel moves lower, kneeling between Martin's legs, Martin begins to tense, though whether it is pleasurable anticipation or not he isn't sure. Warm lips move over his stomach, down to his wiry russet-coloured pubic hair, then to the soft inside of his thighs. He gasps as a hot tongue begins to mark the crease of his inner thigh, and whispers Daniel's name. Daniel glances up, his eyes dark.

“Are you all right?” he asks gently.

Martin nods shakily. “Yes, yes, I- yes.”

Another kiss is pressed to his sharp hip bone. “What do you want?” Daniel murmurs. “Tell me what you want.”

Martin closes his eyes as something very close to shame boils in his gut. The pleasant tipsiness has vanished. “I don't know,” he finally whispers, then opens his eyes to look at Daniel.

Daniel looks... strangely angry, and Martin is about to apologise when the other man has surged forwards and kissed him desperately. “You mean no one has ever-?” he searches Martin's face, and Martin can only shake his head mutely, feeling still more ashamed. Daniel kisses him again, long and searching, before moving back down the bed, nudging Martin's legs further apart. “I'd better make it good then,” he says, just before brushing a soft kiss over the damp head of Martin's cock.

It is the most incredible sensation Martin has ever felt. Daniel's mouth is hot and wet and his tongue licks and swirls and he is swept up in it. He tries to watch, because he can scarcely believe that this gorgeous man is sucking his cock and looking so very earnest and happy about doing so. Eventually, however, he cannot keep his eyes open and clenches them tightly shut, head tipped back as he moans and gasps. Daniel moves lower, running his tongue over Martin's tight balls, mouthing at them and flickering his tongue against his perineum, which makes Martin's hips buck and a whimper break out of his throat. Finally Daniel has him moaning brokenly, hands clenched tightly in the sheets, his cock and balls almost dripping, and he tries to warn Daniel that he is about to come, but Daniel simply reaches up, takes one of his hands and squeezes it hard and he is coming, crying out helplessly as Daniel swallows around him.

He can barely catch his breath afterwards, and he burrows into Daniel's arms whispering a shaky litany of “oh God” and “thank you, thank you” and “Daniel”.
_____________________

Martin begins to spend a lot of time waiting for the other shoe to drop - surely things with Daniel cannot keep going so well? They get on like a house on fire, and any disagreements are swiftly sorted out. Martin had been convinced after their first minor disagreement (over who had agreed to go and get the shopping) that that was that, but it turned out that in relationships these things happen and it is okay. He cannot believe that after ten years he has finally escaped the shared house: the first morning he had woken up next to Daniel after moving in he had nearly wept with happiness, knowing that he would be waking up here most mornings.

Things are too perfect, Martin thinks. It is inevitable that something will go wrong.

They are in bed. It is a Sunday afternoon, and they have spent most of the day lounging about in various states of undress, kissing and cuddling. A few minutes ago Daniel had tugged off Martin's boxers and wriggled down the bed to run the side of his nose against Martin's very interested cock.

Martin is losing himself in the sensation of Daniel's hot, wet mouth on him, the clever tongue teasing and swirling over the head. One hand is wrapped around the base of his cock, and the other comes up to fondle his balls. At that he tips his head back, groaning his pleasure as he grips helplessly at Daniel's hair. He feels Daniel smile around him, and two curious fingers stroke against his perineum, making his hips jerk involuntarily as he gasps. The fingers continue to press and stroke, causing little jolts of pleasure to ripple through him, but then suddenly the fingers stray further back, ghost gently across his entrance and circle the muscle there and all pleasure is eclipsed by a sudden tight panic in his chest. He gasps and before he knows what he is doing he has scrambled up and away, choking out, “No, don't!” He almost falls over himself in his haste to get off the bed, his breathing coming short and fast, trying to swallow down the panic threatening to overwhelm him.

When he comes back to himself he is sat on the floor in the bathroom, trembling and still struggling to breathe properly. Even the sensation of a gentle, careful touch there had felt like a violation, had felt so wrong. Even though it was Daniel; good, kind, gentle Daniel, who understood. It had not been enough to over-ride his immediate reaction. He leans his forehead on his knees, pulled up to his chest, and concentrates on breathing.

There is a gentle tap at the door. “Martin? Are you all right?” Daniel sounds so worried. Guilt twists Martin's gut. “I'm so, so sorry.” A pause. “Can I... come in?”

“Yes,” Martin chokes out. Daniel has pulled on a dressing gown, and his face is livid with fear. Martin hates that he made Daniel look like that. The other man sits down next to him, very carefully not touching him. Martin hides his face again, unable to look at him.

“I'm sorry,” whispers Daniel again, his voice hoarse. “I'm such an idiot, I didn't even think... God, Martin, I don't know what to say.”

“Don't,” mumbles Martin to his knees. “Don't, it's not your fault. I should have said something.” He knows now that he needs to tell Daniel the full extent of what happened to him. He swallows a wave of nausea. “I've not... I mean, there's something that you... should know. I should have told you before, but...”

“Is this about your last boyfriend?” Daniel asks quietly, a slight edge to his voice behind the worry and fear.

“He... the night I left him, he... I asked him to stop, I told him I didn't want to, but he just... he held me down. I couldn't get away.” Hot tears blur his eyelids and he doesn't even try to get rid of them, just letting them run down his face as he blinks rapidly into his knees. “It hurt,” he whispers brokenly. “It hurt so much, and it seemed to go on forever. He didn't even seem to notice what he'd done. I got away as quickly as possible afterwards, called Carolyn... I was a mess, for months and months. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I was just a wreck. I was so frightened that you'd turn out to be the same, that at any moment you'd change and be like him... But you're not, you're nothing like him at all. But I don't think I can ever do... that. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

Daniel has remained quiet all through Martin's broken, hurried explanation. Eventually, after hearing no reaction, Martin twists his head to peer up at his boyfriend.

Daniel's face is crumpled in grief, and his eyes are angry. Before he even knows what he's doing, Martin has turned towards him, wrapping his arms round his neck and hanging on for dear life as he weeps into Daniel's shoulder. Daniel's arms come around him, carefully at first, then pulling him as close as possible, tucking Martin's head under his chin.

“I am never, ever letting anyone hurt you again,” Daniel whispers fiercely against Martin's ear. “You're my darling, you know.”

After several minutes they grow cold sitting on the bathroom floor. Daniel helps Martin to his feet; Martin feels embarrassed now by his reaction, and mumbles “sorry” whilst staring at his feet. Daniel grasps his chin and tilts his head up, gazing at him with a strangely sad look on his face.

“Don't,” he says firmly. “It is fine. Now, I think we should get dressed, go for a walk, then come back for a cuppa and a cuddle on the sofa. How does that sound?”
__________________
Of course, it isn't as easy as having a walk, a cup of tea, and a cuddle, though those things do help. Daniel treats Martin very carefully all day, as though he will break at the slightest thing, and though Martin knows Daniel is totally justified (after all he had had a panic attack and broken down in tears that morning), he can't help but feel quietly angry. He does not want to be coddled or seen as some delicate flower. He's fine, he's been fine, and he just wants to carry on as normal.

He doesn't say any of this though, and Daniel seems to take his silence and tension as remnants from the morning. They go to bed early, and Martin tells himself sternly to stop being an idiot. Daniel is simply being caring and thoughtful. He scoots closer once they are under the covers and tucks himself into Daniel's side, head on his shoulder.

“All right?” Daniel asks, arms coming around him.

“Mm hm,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “Just tired.”

He wakes hours later, heart pounding, drenched in a cold sweat, and gasping for breath. He yanks himself away from Pete, no no not again no and then the bedside light is switched on and it is Daniel, not Pete and he chokes on a sob, limbs trembling.

A warm, dry hand touches between his shoulder blades and he tenses. “It's all right, love. It's all right. Just a nightmare. You're okay.”

He shakes his head fiercely and clutches at his hair. “It's not,” he grinds out. “It's not okay, it's not.”

“Martin, love-”

“No!” he exclaims, and he keeps his head down, staring at his hands curled into fists on his thighs, because he can't look at Daniel right now. “No, it's not fine. I thought I was getting better, I thought I was okay, but I'm not. Don't you see? He is still there. I can't get away from him, and I am sick of it.” He pushes himself off the bed, starting to pace, unable to keep still. “I'm bored of it, Daniel. I'm bored of him always lurking at the back of my mind, I'm bored of always waiting for something to happen, I am sick and tired of the nightmares and the panic attacks and I am furious about what he has taken away from me. How dare he?” He pauses, draws in a deep and shaky breath. Daniel reaches out a hand and goes to speak, but Martin interrupts. “But it's not him any more, is it? It's me. I'm doing this to myself. I'm the one getting scared and making issues and not moving on and being weak. I hate this. I want it to stop. Why won't it stop?”

Finally he looks at Daniel, who is pale and sleep-tousled, sitting on the edge of the bed. “This isn't your fault, Martin,” he says. “And you are not weak. You've been through something truly awful, and you've come out the other side. You have moved on. I've seen it. You need to be easier on yourself.”

“Easier?” exclaims Martin, wrapping his arms around his shivering torso. “Easier? You think this is how I want to be? You think if I were easier on myself I would seem less pathetic?”

“Stop it!” Daniel says hoarsely. “Martin, stop it! I don't know what you want from me. I've tried to do the right thing, and I will carry on trying because I love you and I'm not going to stop, but I don't know what you need me to be right now. But I am not going to sit here and listen to you say those things about yourself. I won't.”

They stare at one other, Martin breathing hard and shaking, Daniel angry and still. Finally, Martin crumbles, staggering forward and sinking to his knees in front of Daniel.

“I'm scared,” he whispers, burying his face in Daniel's lap. “What if this never stops?”

“Oh, love,” Daniel murmurs, threading his fingers through Martin's curls. “It will, it will stop. It's already got better, hasn't it? It's not even been a year. You need to give yourself time. Remember what you were scared to do in the weeks after? And look at where you are now. This isn't going to beat you.”

Martin doesn't reply. They stay like that for long minutes, Daniel rhythmically stroking Martin's hair until the shaking stops and his breathing quiets. Then, wordlessly, he tugs him up and onto the bed. Martin goes willingly, letting Daniel get them under the covers. He lies on his side, curled up, and Daniel presses up behind him, legs tucked together and an arm around his waist. He concentrates on matching his breathing to Daniel's, and eventually drifts into a dreamless sleep.
____________

The next day Martin feels rather ashamed of himself, though Daniel refuses to listen to any of his apologies. When Daniel leaves for work Martin feels rather at a loss; he isn't flying until tomorrow, and he has no van jobs. He feels rather better after getting everything out of his system the night before, but he feels exhausted and drained. The nightmare especially had been an unpleasant reminder that he is very much not all right yet, and it presses on him all morning, sitting at the back of his mind. Eventually, he makes a cup of tea, steels himself, and calls his old therapist.

She is surprised to hear from him, but very willing to listen. He is glad that he caught her at a time when she can talk; he doesn't think he could have called again. He stumbles through an explanation about what had happened, and she doesn't speak until he has rambled into silence.

Her tone is warm, concerned, but no-nonsense. She reminds Martin of his old English teacher, who had never shouted, but always brooked no argument. She tells him he has made excellent progress, that some stumbling blocks are still inevitable, and the nightmare is his subconscious trying to process the earlier panic attack. She tells him that problems with intimacy were to be expected, and that he has made the progress he has is a clear sign that he is recovering.

“Recovery is a process, Martin,” she says gently. “Don't rush yourself. It's frustrating, and any feelings of anger or resentment are perfectly normal and you should not bottle them up. But at the same time remember how far you have come, all right?”

When he finally hangs up, with a promise that he will call again should he need to, he feels as though a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He wants to call Daniel, to tell him, but contents himself with curling up with a book for an hour before he drifts into a doze on the sofa.

____________________

When Martin blinks his eyes open, evening has fallen and the flat is filled with light. He stirs with a groan and sits up, a blanket falling from his shoulders. Daniel is in the kitchen by the stove, stirring something in a saucepan. He glances over as Martin sits up.

“Hullo, sleepy-head,” he says, laying down his wooden spoon and coming over to the sofa. He sits down beside Martin and pushes the hair back from his head. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” says Martin, smiling at him. “Are you?”

“Course I am.” Daniel winds his arms around Martin's shoulders to give him a brief hug. Martin leans his head on a broad shoulder.

“I really am sorry about last night,” he murmurs.

Daniel pulls away, fixing Martin with a glare. “What did I tell you? Stop apologising. You don't need to.”

“I think I need to. So will you just accept it?”

Daniel sighs. “Okay, okay. I accept your apology, love.”

“Thank you.” Martin wraps his arms back around Daniel, silently demanding another hug. “I rang my old therapist today.”

“Oh yeah? Did it help?”

“I think so. I felt a lot better afterwards.”

“That's really good.” Daniel kisses his forehead. “I'm making curry. Want some?”

______

The months drift on, and still Daniel shows no sign of leaving, or of growing bored or irritated with Martin. Instead, he is as affectionate and loving as ever. They have disagreements, they argue sometimes (Daniel thinks that Martin works too hard; Martin thinks Daniel doesn't understand what it is to be properly poor), but they talk it out and go to bed to fall asleep next to one another's warmth.

Martin still has the occasional nightmare, the odd flash of memory at unexpected moments, but they are now few and far between. He had deliberately walked up the road Pete had lived on, and saw a young woman and her friend taking bags of shopping into the flat. He had suspected as much: Pete had moved on. He hoped that, wherever he was, he wasn't making some other poor man's life a misery.

After five months being together, they go away for a few days to Cromer, in Norfolk. Daniel remembers the place from his childhood holidays to the beach. Martin's family had always gone camping in Wales for their holidays, so he enjoyed exploring the seaside towns. Daniel had insisted on going crabbing at a nearby town, which was a new activity to Martin, but he found it rather relaxing, lounging on the sun-warmed stone at the harbour and watching the boats bob in their moorings as they waited for the crabs to snag the bait.

The next day the beach is windswept and chilly, not so much sandy as stony. It is September, so the family holiday-makers have left, and they have the beach mostly to themselves, with some distant dog-walkers. They pull on light jackets and Daniel yanks a woolly green hat over Martin's hair, and Martin pulls a face at him.

“You look lovely,” Daniel says, grinning and kissing Martin's freckled nose. Martin snorts, but he keeps the hat on.

They stroll along the Cromer beach, looking in rock pools and trying not to slip on seaweed. Martin tries to teach Daniel to skim stones, but he proves to be truly abysmal at it. They spend a fun few minutes throwing a frisbee to an over-excited collie and chatting to its owner, after which Daniel gives Martin puppy eyes and asks if they can have a dog. Martin rolls his eyes, and points out that a dog would be very unhappy cooped up in their flat for most of the day. He cheers Daniel up by buying fish and chips from a very good shop near the seafront, and they walk along the pier munching contentedly, the scent of vinegar wafting around them.

The cottage they stayed in was small and white-washed, standing rather precariously close to the cliffs. On their last day the rain came down in sheets, so they stayed curled in bed all day, emerging only to use the bathroom and find some food. Lying there in their country cottage, listening to the rain hammering against the windows and roof, with Daniel's head pillowed on his chest, soft hair curling around his fingers, Martin dared to believe that this would last.

“Maybe we could get a dog sometime,” he murmurs sleepily. “If we can ever afford a proper house.”

He feels Daniel smile against his skin, pausing where he is tracing patterns across Martin's stomach and hips. “I've always wanted a dog. A good-sized one; a collie, or a lab. Maybe a retriever or a weimaraner.”

“I like those. Their eyes are a strange colour.”

“Like yours.”

Martin taps him sharply on the head. “Are you saying I look like a dog?”

“Weimaraners are very beautiful dogs.” Daniel presses a kiss to the skin next to his face.

“Nutter,” says Martin fondly. He sighs. “I wish we could stay here.”

“Mm, me too. Carolyn might hunt you down if you take any more time off.”

“With knives,” Martin agrees. They fall silent for a moment. Martin resumes carding his fingers through Daniel's hair. “I love you,” he says after a moment. It suddenly feels vitally important to tell him this.

“Love you too,” Daniel mumbles sleepily against his chest.
__________________

Martin has been thinking about this for months now, if he's honest. When they had reached their first anniversary as a couple, they hadn't done anything fancy. They had stayed in with a Chinese, a bottle of wine, and a Marx Brothers box set. Martin had looked at Daniel, giggling over Horse Feathers, and could not remember ever being so happy or content. He had nestled his head against Daniel's shoulder, and a warm arm had wrapped around him, tugging him in close. As Daniel's lips pressed a quick kiss into his hair, Martin realised that he wanted to spend the rest of his life like this. A plan began to germinate in his mind.

In his head, the proposal has to go perfectly. He will take Daniel out for a really nice meal, and then get down on one knee. Simple and classic. Or maybe he'll do it at their favourite park on a sunny day. That way it can be a surprise. Maybe he can even take him to Paris, or Rome, to somewhere romantic... for the next few weeks he lets his imagination run.

He will have to save for a ring, of course. He is no longer living hand to mouth, ever since Carolyn had begun to pay him a little, but he is still on a tight budget. It isn't traditional for men to have engagement rings he knows, but the occasion needs something. He begins to plan in earnest.

Eventually, after five months, he decides on a plan of action: they are booked to fly to Italy in three weeks. There, he will pick up a bottle of Daniel's favourite vintage. He will arrive home before Daniel gets back from work. He will get everything ready: he will make Daniel's favourite dish, and they'll eat it at a table with a candle, and then he'll do it. He knows what he is going to say. He won't mess this up. Absolutely not.

Of course, what his plan does not take into account is horrendous weather and a tech failure on the return flight from Italy. What he has not planned for is to arrive very late due to said bad weather and a tech failure, necessitating a brief stop over in France to get it fixed. When they land back in Fitton, at long last, he knows that Daniel will already be at home. But he can fix this, he can still get things back on track, it will all just be... slightly later. And he'll be rushed and soaked with rain. But still.

Then the van won't start. And he doesn't have his jump leads. It is a complete disaster! Douglas, luckily, sees his distress, and offers him a lift home. Martin feels as though he could hug him. All is not lost!

That is until the slippery roads, a tight bend, and an idiot in an Audi see fit to combine in the worst way. Douglas swears, Martin yells, the tyres screech, and then his head hurts a lot.

“Martin, are you all right?” Douglas asks, sounding shaken and slightly angry.

“Fine, I think. Are you?”

“Oh yes. Or I will be, once I give that complete berk a piece of my mind...” and with that, Douglas slams out of the car to the Audi, which seems to have taken the worst of the crash. He is back a few minutes later, grimacing.

“The chap got knocked out. He's very confused. I'll have to call an ambulance.”

Martin buries his face in his hands, trying to ignore his pounding head. He'll have an impressive bruise tomorrow judging by the throbbing in his temple. Not that he cares about that - what he cares about is that tonight is now irrevocably ruined. He'll never be able to pull it back. He feels utterly miserable.

He gets out of the car and helps Douglas examine the damage to the Lexus, which is not as bad as the other man's Audi. Douglas is cursing and muttering to himself, but acknowledges that it could have been worse. The other man tries to get out of his car, but is clearly very concussed. Douglas goes over to force him to sit down, and is rewarded by the man throwing up on his shoes. Martin digs a spare jacket out of his flight bag and wordlessly drapes it over the other man's shoulders. It seems the thing to do.

The ambulance finally appears and the paramedics load up the concussed man, and then insist on checking Douglas and Martin over for injuries, despite their insistence that they're fine. A police car then pulls up to deal with the two cars, and Martin's mobile begins to ring. Checking his phone, he sees to his horror that he also has several texts from Daniel. He was supposed to have been back hours ago!

“Daniel!” he gasps as soon as he answers the phone. “I'm so sorry, I-”

“Where are you!?” Daniel's voice hovers between scared and angry.

“I'm sorry, we landed late, and Douglas was giving me a lift back but we've had a bit of a crash-”

“A crash?” Daniel all but shrieks. “A crash!? Are you all right?”

“I'm fine, just a knock on the head, but we had to wait for the ambulance for the other guy. I should have called you, I'm really sorry-”

“No, no... well, yes, you should, but it's fine, at least you're okay. Where are you? Shall I come and pick you up?”

“I- let me just check, Douglas is talking to the police, I don't know if I have to go with them...”

The police officers assure him that he can leave once they have his statement, which takes only a few minutes: it all happened so quickly, he barely has anything to say. He sits sideways on the passenger seat of Douglas' car, door open and his feet in the road. The rain is still thrumming down, but he's wet already so it hardly matters. He doesn't even really notice. He sits with his head hanging down, twisting his long fingers together. His hands are shaking, he notes distantly, and he supposes he's rather shocked by the crash.

The bottle of wine is still down in the footwell, miraculously unbroken. He glances at it, and his chest tightens. Weeks had been spent planning this. Weeks. It would have been perfect, but now it's ruined, and he just knows that now, when he next finds the right time to do it, he'll ruin it. He'll gear himself up too much, he'll fret and panic, and it won't work properly. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, gritting his teeth. His one chance to do something right, and it had failed already. Daniel deserved the perfect proposal, and now he wasn't going to get it. He felt utterly miserable.

Douglas appeared next to him, looking thoroughly disgruntled. “They've got to take the car to a garage,” he said. “I've got to go with them.”

“Daniel's coming to pick me up,” says Martin, looking up at last. “He shouldn't be long.”

“All right,” Douglas nods. “What's up with you? Apart from the abysmal weather and crashing, of course. At least it wasn't your miserable van: I doubt it would have survived.”

This much is true, Martin concedes. But still. This is more than just being stuck in the rain for a while, to him at least.

“Ah, I think your knight in not-so-shining Vauxhall has appeared.”

Glancing up, Martin sees Daniel's battered Corsa pulling up, its headlights shimmering through the rain. Daniel himself climbs out, and even through the rain he is clearly pale and worried, and had come out without a coat. His T-shirt is already getting soaked.

Martin pulls himself out of the car and heads towards him, and Daniel's face almost crumples with relief. “Thank fuck,” he mutters as he pulls Martin into a crushing hug. Martin fists his hands into Daniel's damp T-shirt and presses his face into his neck.

“Are you all right?” Daniel asks, voice laden with worry.

“Yes,” Martin mumbles into his neck. “Pleased to see you.”

Daniel hugs him tighter and kisses his hair, and Martin cannot believe he has managed to mess up proposing to Daniel. He doesn't want to wait, he doesn't want to plan again, doesn't want to give it any more chances to fail, to be ruined. The small box in his uniform jacket pocket feels as though it is burning into his skin.

“Come on,” says Daniel. “Let's go home, get you warmed up.” He extracts himself from Martin's arms, moves to lead him to the car.

“Wait.” The word is out of Martin's mouth before he realises it. He notices that he has grabbed Daniel's wrist to stop him. Daniel frowns, opens his mouth to ask a question. “Wait,” Martin says again. Suddenly, he doesn't care that there are police officers and Douglas, and that it's raining and he was just in a car crash and his stupid van doesn't work and the whole thing was ruined. Thirty seconds in Daniel's arms and those things don't seem important any more.

He doesn't really notice that he's kneeling in a puddle, or that a stone is digging into his kneecap. He fumbles slightly as he pulls out the small box, his fingers shaking from nerves or cold. Daniel is staring, disbelief writ large across his face, and Martin's world seems to shrink to this and only this.

The question comes out rather too quietly, his voice rather too high-pitched, and he's sure he stumbles on his words, but he says it. He says it, and now it's all up to Daniel.

For a moment, he thinks he's made a horrible, disastrous mistake. But then Daniel is on his knees too, the puddle soaking his jeans, and he is not taking the ring but cupping Martin's face in his big, kind hands and he's smiling.

“You daft bugger,” Daniel says hoarsely. Then he starts to laugh. Martin watches, utterly bewildered. Just as he is about to ask what's going on, he is being kissed fiercely, and before he has time to respond Daniel's lips move from his over his face, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. “Course I will. Of course I bloody will. God.”

He pulls away, though he still keeps Martin's face cupped in his hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks, and they sit beaming at each other, mindless of the rain and the police officers staring and Douglas laughing (laughing, Martin registers dimly. The git.). Martin's hair is dripping in his eyes, and Daniel is starting to shiver.

“I love you,” Martin says, honestly.

“I know,” says Daniel, shaking his head. “Come on, I think we need to go and warm up so we can celebrate properly.” He stands, and pulls Martin to his feet.

“Hold on.” Martin pulls out the ring, and pushes it onto Daniel's finger. It fits, which frankly shocks him. Daniel beams and kisses him again.

“Come on,” he says, pushing Martin's hair back out of his face. “Let's go home.”

__________________

Martin lies awake long after Daniel has fallen asleep. A thin sliver of light from the lamppost outside cuts across the ceiling. Martin is sleepy after the frankly fantastic sex, but he cannot seem to drop off. His mind is buzzing with happiness, and he cannot stop replaying the whole night over and over in his head.

This is it, he tells himself firmly. The rest of your life.

He can't think of anything better.

End