FIC: Delights Not Me [5/5]
Title: Delights Not Me
Pairings: None
Rating: R
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 any of these people.
Summary: Martin is asexual, but he doesn't really know what that is. He thinks he is somehow broken. Carolyn and Douglas, seeing his inability to begin a relationship, try to help. It doesn't go exactly to plan.
Beta by the lovely lady_t_220 :)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
“Still no luck with Martin.” Carolyn shook her head. “I'm almost ready to give up the ghost.”
“I wish I could mock you for it,” Douglas sighed. “But so am I. It seems we underestimated the trust extent of his uselessness.”
“Who's useless?” Arthur's cheery voice cut through their conversation. Carolyn and Douglas glanced up quickly.
“No one,” said Carolyn. “Haven't you got a plane to hoover?”
“I'm all done! Skip's just on his way too. So what are you giving up? Who's useless?”
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Douglas reassured him.
“Oh, right. Okay!”
Carolyn watched her son thoughtfully for a moment. He had followed Martin out of the bar the previous night - it wasn't entirely out of the question that Martin would have spoken to him about whatever was going on. “Arthur, did you speak to Martin last night?”
“Oh, yeah,” Arthur nodded, plonking himself on one of the uncomfortable portacabin chairs. “He was really upset.”
Douglas started a little at this. “Upset? Why on earth was he upset?”
“Oh, because of that woman in the bar.”
“He was upset... because a woman was talking to him in the bar?” Carolyn frowned.
“Well, yeah. He doesn't like people flirting with him or touching him or anything like that. I mean, I don't really understand why, because people are brilliant, but Skip says he's never liked it or wanted anything like that, and that there's been all these people trying to kiss him and things lately and he's all upset about it because he doesn't want to.”
Douglas and Carolyn stared at Arthur, comprehension and slight horror dawning on their faces. Arthur carried on, oblivious.
“I mean, I thought everyone liked sex, but then I thought everyone liked Jaffa Cakes and it turns out loads of people hate them! And if someone tried to make me do something I hated, even if everyone else loved it, I'd feel all sad too.”
“Oh-” All three looked up. Martin was stood in the door of the portacabin, staring at Arthur. His face was pale and stricken, and it was clear that he had heard every word. Without saying anything, he turned and walked away.
Douglas met Carolyn's gaze. “Oh God,” he muttered.
“My thoughts exactly,” she agreed, getting to her feet. “Get the silly boy back in here.” She headed after Martin.
“Martin! Martin, wait!”
He came to a halt halfway across the car park, but didn't turn to face her. The line of his shoulders was taut and unhappy, and his hands were thrust deep in his pockets. Carolyn approached him carefully, as though he were a wild animal.
“Martin, come back inside.”
“I'd rather go home, I think.” His voice was tight and unnaturally controlled.
“Just for a minute. We have some things to explain, and you need to listen to them. Come on.” She touched his arm, but he jerked it out of her grip.
“I don't need to talk about it. And if I did, do you really think I'd talk to you or Douglas?”
Carolyn frowned. “Well, you should. Because we're going to try and help.”
At that, he whirled around. His eyes were glittering with tears, his lips set in a thin line. “Help?” he exclaimed, voice rather high-pitched. “What, because there's something wrong with me? Because I already know that, but I can't change it. Believe me, I've tried! I've been like this all my life and I've tried to be different but I can't-” he broke off, breathing harshly.
“Martin, calm down.” Carolyn gripped his shoulder tightly. “We think nothing of the sort, and neither should you. Come and have a cup of tea and we will talk this over properly. And don't for one minute think I'm giving you a choice in this.”
His face crumpled and he nodded grudgingly, rubbing the back of his hand roughly over his eyes. Carolyn led him back to the portacabin and practically pushed him into a chair, where he stared fixedly at his hands. Arthur was dispatched to make tea. Carolyn and Douglas sat themselves down on either side of Martin.
“We owe you an explanation,” Douglas began abruptly. “And - and listen carefully to this Martin, because you're not likely to hear this often - an apology.”
Martin lifted his head and gazed blankly at the first officer. “What?”
“We-” Douglas sighed and glanced at Carolyn. “We had a bet.”
“A bet.” Martin's voice was expressionless.
“Yes. We... realised that you seemed to be having trouble talking to women so we decided to... help things along.”
“I don't-”
“You weren't supposed to know about it,” Carolyn cut in. “The first one of us to get you to meet someone you went on a successful date with would win.”
Martin stared at her. “So... so all those people, all those women-”
“We set it up,” agreed Douglas. “We were trying to help.”
“No you weren't,” whispered Martin, his face still worryingly devoid of expression. “You were trying to humiliate me. Again.”
The strained silence was broken by the entrance of Arthur, who dumped a tray of tea mugs in the middle of the rickety table.
Carolyn and Douglas exchanged a glance, neither of them sure of how to respond to Martin's accusation.
“Do you have any idea,” Martin continued, his voice trembling now, “any idea how it feels to be like this? To be so - so wrong? To not feel the way anyone else does, to be so... alone, all the time, and knowing you'll never be able to fix it?”
“Martin-” Douglas began, but Martin raised his voice, talking over him.
“And them, when you've accepted that sex is something that, for you, is wrong and frightening and... and...” He was close to tears. “Then you have people t-touching you and trying to kiss you and trap you and you can't make them stop and you have no idea what to do and the whole time you're panicking and yet you know that you're the one that's wrong, so when one of these people starts trying to force you you can't do anything-” Finally he stopped, breathing hard. “Congratulations,” he whispered. “If you wanted to humiliate me, you succeeded.”
“Good lord,” whispered Douglas. “I- Martin, we had no idea it was like this. None at all.”
“No,” agreed Carolyn, looking shaken. “If we'd known, we'd have stopped it. We're sorry.” Arthur was staring from Carolyn to Douglas, his mouth slightly open. He looked dumbfounded.
“But didn't you wonder,” Martin rasped, “why your plans weren't working? If I were as desperate as you thought I was... did you not wonder why I wasn't taking anyone up on their offers?”
Carolyn sighed. “We assumed you were rather hopeless.”
“Great. Just great. Well, on that note, I think I'll be going home. Do you need a note of resignation, Carolyn, since I'm essentially a volunteer?” he actually pushed his chair back and got to his feet. Carolyn and Douglas stared, dumbstruck. It was Arthur that sprang to his feet and grabbed Martin's arm.
“Don't go, Skip!”
“I'm sorry, Arthur. I know you had nothing to do with this, but I can't-”
“You- you can't go. Please, Skipper. Stay.”
“Martin, please listen,” Douglas said. “Just listen, for a few minutes. Then you can decide what to do. Okay?”
Martin didn't sit down, but he didn't move. He stood with his whole body tense. He nodded once, jerkily.
“We don't have any excuses,” Douglas began. “We don't. But we had no idea that you were asexual, and there is nothing wrong with you. At all. You shouldn't think that.”
Martin stared at Douglas, eyes narrowed. “Asexual?” he repeated, as though he were trying the word out.
“Yes,” said Douglas, frowning. “Isn't that what you said you were? That you aren't interested in sex?”
Martin stared at him. “Well, yes...”
“You didn't realise,” Carolyn said suddenly. “You didn't realise that people could be asexual.”
Martin shook his head mutely. Carolyn sighed gently. “Oh, Martin. You thought there was something wrong with you?”
“Martin, sit down,” Douglas said. Clearly still uncertain, Martin sat down. “Look, some people are straight. Some are gay. Some are bisexual. Some are anywhere in between. Some people want lots of sex, and some people only want it sometimes. Some people - asexual people - aren't interested in having sex at all. There is nothing wrong with you.”
Martin was silent. He was clearly thinking hard, trying this explanation out and fitting it into his own idea of himself. Finally, he looked up. “Really?”
“Yes,” said Carolyn firmly. “Oh, Martin. You silly boy. You're absolutely fine how you are. We would never have done this if we'd known you weren't interested.”
Martin shook his head. “I believe you, I think. I just... I can't... I need to think about this.”
This time, no one stopped him as he left the portacabin.
***
From: Douglas Richardson: Martin, reply to my messages. Let me know you're all right.
From: Douglas Richardson: Stop being stubborn and just reply.
From: Douglas Richardson: I will come round and knock on your door until you open it.
From: Douglas Richardson: You're being a clot.
To: Douglas Richardson: I'm fine. Stop texting me. I'll talk to you when I want to.
From: Douglas Richardson: See? That wasn't difficult.
To: Douglas Richardson: I know this is hard to understand, but can you stop interfering in my life for a few hours?
Martin dropped his mobile onto the bedside table and slumped back against his pillow. He was angry with Douglas and Carolyn for their interference, for what he had been put through because of their bet. And if he hadn't told Arthur, it would have just gone on and on, because neither Douglas nor Carolyn would have given up.
He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He was angry with them, but the anger was slightly dimmed by what they had said earlier. There is nothing wrong with you. You're absolutely fine how you are.
It didn't fit. He had over twenty years of feeling wrong, of being convinced that he was broken or deficient in some way, and that wasn't something that was easily overcome. He had never been presented with any evidence to the contrary, after all.
“Asexual,” he mumbled to himself. It was a strange word, almost clinical. The only time he had ever heard that word was on wildlife documentaries about amoebas or other sea creatures. He had a momentary image of himself as a ginger sea cucumber, and giggled. Maybe he'd reproduce by budding.
He sighed, letting his hands drop back to the bed. He had known for years that he was this way, and he knew it wasn't going to change. But if it was a genuine.... thing, then he could find out about it. Maybe he could talk to other people who were this way, if there were others. Arthur's words echoed in his mind for a moment, ”if you don't want to have sex with anyone, then there must be other people too - maybe you'll meet someone like that!”
Someone like that... Staring at his ceiling, Martin felt his chest tighten. He had resigned himself long ago to being alone, to never having a relationship or a partner. But if there were other people like him, then maybe it wasn't an impossibility. Maybe somewhere out there, there was someone who would be happy to be with him, would want to... to cuddle or hold hands, without any of the messy invasiveness of sex. It wasn't a complete fantasy, surely?
Usually, he hardly ever let himself think about it, but as he dwelt on the possibility his entire being seemed to ache with a vague, unmet need. God, he was so lonely.
Martin gave himself a mental shake, pulling himself from his negative thoughts. He forced himself off the bed: he was going to find out more about this asexuality thing, work out what it meant and what it could mean for him. To do that, he needed tea.
***
Two hours later, Martin was sat in front of his old computer, its fan whirring noisily, with a notepad full of scribbles balanced on one knee. He could barely stop himself smiling: finally, irrevocable proof that he was all right. There were hundreds, thousands of people out there like him! He had made a hesitant post on the forums of the AVEN website, admitting that he had only just learned what asexuality was, and within ten minutes he had received several warm replies from supportive, friendly people who reassured him that he was fine, and welcoming him to what he learnt was called the “ace community”.
As he lay in bed that night, feeling comfortable in his own skin for the first time in years, he decided that he couldn't be as angry with Douglas and Carolyn any more: they had seemed genuinely sorry, after all. He would speak to them tomorrow, try to patch things up. Everything would be fine.
***
“Morning, Martin,” Douglas said, an uncharacteristically wary note in his voice. He was sat at the rickety table, filling in the flight plan. Martin stared for a moment: Douglas must be feeling bad if he was doing the paperwork.
“Morning,” he replied, dumping his flight bag and sitting down.
“And how is sir this morning?” Douglas sounded almost normal, but there was still an uncertainty in the way he regarded Martin.
“I'm... I'm all right. Where are Carolyn and Arthur?”
“Sorting out the cabin.” Douglas put his pen down. “Do you want tea?”
Martin stared. “What?”
“Tea, Martin. A hot beverage made by soaking leaves from-”
“I know what tea is. I'm just not used to you making it.”
“Well, I want one, so I may as well make you one at the same time. It's not an entirely selfless gesture.”
“Well... yes. Thank you.”
Douglas nodded and stood, heading to the small kitchenette at the back of MJN's portacabin. Martin bit his lip for a moment. If Douglas didn't bring yesterday up, then he would have to, and he had no idea how to start. He briefly considered just leaving it and carrying on as normal, but it was far too enormous an elephant to fit in the room. He fidgeted in his seat as Douglas boiled the kettle and made tea, twisting his fingers together.
Douglas put his mug down in front of him, the one emblazoned with “CAPTAIN” that Arthur had got him for his birthday. Martin mumbled his thanks and took a sip. The two sat in awkward silence for a moment, before Douglas spoke.
“Look, Martin, about yesterday-”
“It's fine,” he interrupted. “Well no, no, it's not fine, not - not entirely. I'm still annoyed with you. And Carolyn. You had no right to do what you did.” Martin paused, took a deep breath. Douglas looked on the verge of speaking, so he plunged ahead. “I'm all right, though. I... did some research yesterday, found out a bit more. And I think I'm... okay. Yeah. Okay.” He couldn't prevent a small smile tipping the corner of his mouth.
“Good,” said Douglas slowly. “I'm glad.” There was silence for a moment as they both drank their tea, before Douglas shoved the flight plan across the table at him. “Here you are then, sir. Flight plan to Oslo.”
“But you were doing it!”
“What? And take the captain's responsibility? Oh no, Martin, this is your job. Besides, you always redo them anyway.”
Martin scowled and yanked the flight plan towards him. “Fine, I'll make up for your supreme laziness. Again.”
“Excellent.” With that, Douglas leant back in his chair, picked up his paper, and began doing the crossword. Martin glared at him for a moment before turning back to the flight plan. The only sounds were the scratching of his pen and the rustling of Douglas' paper. Everything was... normal.
Ducking his head, Martin couldn't quite hide his smile.
Pairings: None
Rating: R
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 any of these people.
Summary: Martin is asexual, but he doesn't really know what that is. He thinks he is somehow broken. Carolyn and Douglas, seeing his inability to begin a relationship, try to help. It doesn't go exactly to plan.
Beta by the lovely lady_t_220 :)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
“Still no luck with Martin.” Carolyn shook her head. “I'm almost ready to give up the ghost.”
“I wish I could mock you for it,” Douglas sighed. “But so am I. It seems we underestimated the trust extent of his uselessness.”
“Who's useless?” Arthur's cheery voice cut through their conversation. Carolyn and Douglas glanced up quickly.
“No one,” said Carolyn. “Haven't you got a plane to hoover?”
“I'm all done! Skip's just on his way too. So what are you giving up? Who's useless?”
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Douglas reassured him.
“Oh, right. Okay!”
Carolyn watched her son thoughtfully for a moment. He had followed Martin out of the bar the previous night - it wasn't entirely out of the question that Martin would have spoken to him about whatever was going on. “Arthur, did you speak to Martin last night?”
“Oh, yeah,” Arthur nodded, plonking himself on one of the uncomfortable portacabin chairs. “He was really upset.”
Douglas started a little at this. “Upset? Why on earth was he upset?”
“Oh, because of that woman in the bar.”
“He was upset... because a woman was talking to him in the bar?” Carolyn frowned.
“Well, yeah. He doesn't like people flirting with him or touching him or anything like that. I mean, I don't really understand why, because people are brilliant, but Skip says he's never liked it or wanted anything like that, and that there's been all these people trying to kiss him and things lately and he's all upset about it because he doesn't want to.”
Douglas and Carolyn stared at Arthur, comprehension and slight horror dawning on their faces. Arthur carried on, oblivious.
“I mean, I thought everyone liked sex, but then I thought everyone liked Jaffa Cakes and it turns out loads of people hate them! And if someone tried to make me do something I hated, even if everyone else loved it, I'd feel all sad too.”
“Oh-” All three looked up. Martin was stood in the door of the portacabin, staring at Arthur. His face was pale and stricken, and it was clear that he had heard every word. Without saying anything, he turned and walked away.
Douglas met Carolyn's gaze. “Oh God,” he muttered.
“My thoughts exactly,” she agreed, getting to her feet. “Get the silly boy back in here.” She headed after Martin.
“Martin! Martin, wait!”
He came to a halt halfway across the car park, but didn't turn to face her. The line of his shoulders was taut and unhappy, and his hands were thrust deep in his pockets. Carolyn approached him carefully, as though he were a wild animal.
“Martin, come back inside.”
“I'd rather go home, I think.” His voice was tight and unnaturally controlled.
“Just for a minute. We have some things to explain, and you need to listen to them. Come on.” She touched his arm, but he jerked it out of her grip.
“I don't need to talk about it. And if I did, do you really think I'd talk to you or Douglas?”
Carolyn frowned. “Well, you should. Because we're going to try and help.”
At that, he whirled around. His eyes were glittering with tears, his lips set in a thin line. “Help?” he exclaimed, voice rather high-pitched. “What, because there's something wrong with me? Because I already know that, but I can't change it. Believe me, I've tried! I've been like this all my life and I've tried to be different but I can't-” he broke off, breathing harshly.
“Martin, calm down.” Carolyn gripped his shoulder tightly. “We think nothing of the sort, and neither should you. Come and have a cup of tea and we will talk this over properly. And don't for one minute think I'm giving you a choice in this.”
His face crumpled and he nodded grudgingly, rubbing the back of his hand roughly over his eyes. Carolyn led him back to the portacabin and practically pushed him into a chair, where he stared fixedly at his hands. Arthur was dispatched to make tea. Carolyn and Douglas sat themselves down on either side of Martin.
“We owe you an explanation,” Douglas began abruptly. “And - and listen carefully to this Martin, because you're not likely to hear this often - an apology.”
Martin lifted his head and gazed blankly at the first officer. “What?”
“We-” Douglas sighed and glanced at Carolyn. “We had a bet.”
“A bet.” Martin's voice was expressionless.
“Yes. We... realised that you seemed to be having trouble talking to women so we decided to... help things along.”
“I don't-”
“You weren't supposed to know about it,” Carolyn cut in. “The first one of us to get you to meet someone you went on a successful date with would win.”
Martin stared at her. “So... so all those people, all those women-”
“We set it up,” agreed Douglas. “We were trying to help.”
“No you weren't,” whispered Martin, his face still worryingly devoid of expression. “You were trying to humiliate me. Again.”
The strained silence was broken by the entrance of Arthur, who dumped a tray of tea mugs in the middle of the rickety table.
Carolyn and Douglas exchanged a glance, neither of them sure of how to respond to Martin's accusation.
“Do you have any idea,” Martin continued, his voice trembling now, “any idea how it feels to be like this? To be so - so wrong? To not feel the way anyone else does, to be so... alone, all the time, and knowing you'll never be able to fix it?”
“Martin-” Douglas began, but Martin raised his voice, talking over him.
“And them, when you've accepted that sex is something that, for you, is wrong and frightening and... and...” He was close to tears. “Then you have people t-touching you and trying to kiss you and trap you and you can't make them stop and you have no idea what to do and the whole time you're panicking and yet you know that you're the one that's wrong, so when one of these people starts trying to force you you can't do anything-” Finally he stopped, breathing hard. “Congratulations,” he whispered. “If you wanted to humiliate me, you succeeded.”
“Good lord,” whispered Douglas. “I- Martin, we had no idea it was like this. None at all.”
“No,” agreed Carolyn, looking shaken. “If we'd known, we'd have stopped it. We're sorry.” Arthur was staring from Carolyn to Douglas, his mouth slightly open. He looked dumbfounded.
“But didn't you wonder,” Martin rasped, “why your plans weren't working? If I were as desperate as you thought I was... did you not wonder why I wasn't taking anyone up on their offers?”
Carolyn sighed. “We assumed you were rather hopeless.”
“Great. Just great. Well, on that note, I think I'll be going home. Do you need a note of resignation, Carolyn, since I'm essentially a volunteer?” he actually pushed his chair back and got to his feet. Carolyn and Douglas stared, dumbstruck. It was Arthur that sprang to his feet and grabbed Martin's arm.
“Don't go, Skip!”
“I'm sorry, Arthur. I know you had nothing to do with this, but I can't-”
“You- you can't go. Please, Skipper. Stay.”
“Martin, please listen,” Douglas said. “Just listen, for a few minutes. Then you can decide what to do. Okay?”
Martin didn't sit down, but he didn't move. He stood with his whole body tense. He nodded once, jerkily.
“We don't have any excuses,” Douglas began. “We don't. But we had no idea that you were asexual, and there is nothing wrong with you. At all. You shouldn't think that.”
Martin stared at Douglas, eyes narrowed. “Asexual?” he repeated, as though he were trying the word out.
“Yes,” said Douglas, frowning. “Isn't that what you said you were? That you aren't interested in sex?”
Martin stared at him. “Well, yes...”
“You didn't realise,” Carolyn said suddenly. “You didn't realise that people could be asexual.”
Martin shook his head mutely. Carolyn sighed gently. “Oh, Martin. You thought there was something wrong with you?”
“Martin, sit down,” Douglas said. Clearly still uncertain, Martin sat down. “Look, some people are straight. Some are gay. Some are bisexual. Some are anywhere in between. Some people want lots of sex, and some people only want it sometimes. Some people - asexual people - aren't interested in having sex at all. There is nothing wrong with you.”
Martin was silent. He was clearly thinking hard, trying this explanation out and fitting it into his own idea of himself. Finally, he looked up. “Really?”
“Yes,” said Carolyn firmly. “Oh, Martin. You silly boy. You're absolutely fine how you are. We would never have done this if we'd known you weren't interested.”
Martin shook his head. “I believe you, I think. I just... I can't... I need to think about this.”
This time, no one stopped him as he left the portacabin.
***
From: Douglas Richardson: Martin, reply to my messages. Let me know you're all right.
From: Douglas Richardson: Stop being stubborn and just reply.
From: Douglas Richardson: I will come round and knock on your door until you open it.
From: Douglas Richardson: You're being a clot.
To: Douglas Richardson: I'm fine. Stop texting me. I'll talk to you when I want to.
From: Douglas Richardson: See? That wasn't difficult.
To: Douglas Richardson: I know this is hard to understand, but can you stop interfering in my life for a few hours?
Martin dropped his mobile onto the bedside table and slumped back against his pillow. He was angry with Douglas and Carolyn for their interference, for what he had been put through because of their bet. And if he hadn't told Arthur, it would have just gone on and on, because neither Douglas nor Carolyn would have given up.
He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He was angry with them, but the anger was slightly dimmed by what they had said earlier. There is nothing wrong with you. You're absolutely fine how you are.
It didn't fit. He had over twenty years of feeling wrong, of being convinced that he was broken or deficient in some way, and that wasn't something that was easily overcome. He had never been presented with any evidence to the contrary, after all.
“Asexual,” he mumbled to himself. It was a strange word, almost clinical. The only time he had ever heard that word was on wildlife documentaries about amoebas or other sea creatures. He had a momentary image of himself as a ginger sea cucumber, and giggled. Maybe he'd reproduce by budding.
He sighed, letting his hands drop back to the bed. He had known for years that he was this way, and he knew it wasn't going to change. But if it was a genuine.... thing, then he could find out about it. Maybe he could talk to other people who were this way, if there were others. Arthur's words echoed in his mind for a moment, ”if you don't want to have sex with anyone, then there must be other people too - maybe you'll meet someone like that!”
Someone like that... Staring at his ceiling, Martin felt his chest tighten. He had resigned himself long ago to being alone, to never having a relationship or a partner. But if there were other people like him, then maybe it wasn't an impossibility. Maybe somewhere out there, there was someone who would be happy to be with him, would want to... to cuddle or hold hands, without any of the messy invasiveness of sex. It wasn't a complete fantasy, surely?
Usually, he hardly ever let himself think about it, but as he dwelt on the possibility his entire being seemed to ache with a vague, unmet need. God, he was so lonely.
Martin gave himself a mental shake, pulling himself from his negative thoughts. He forced himself off the bed: he was going to find out more about this asexuality thing, work out what it meant and what it could mean for him. To do that, he needed tea.
***
Two hours later, Martin was sat in front of his old computer, its fan whirring noisily, with a notepad full of scribbles balanced on one knee. He could barely stop himself smiling: finally, irrevocable proof that he was all right. There were hundreds, thousands of people out there like him! He had made a hesitant post on the forums of the AVEN website, admitting that he had only just learned what asexuality was, and within ten minutes he had received several warm replies from supportive, friendly people who reassured him that he was fine, and welcoming him to what he learnt was called the “ace community”.
As he lay in bed that night, feeling comfortable in his own skin for the first time in years, he decided that he couldn't be as angry with Douglas and Carolyn any more: they had seemed genuinely sorry, after all. He would speak to them tomorrow, try to patch things up. Everything would be fine.
***
“Morning, Martin,” Douglas said, an uncharacteristically wary note in his voice. He was sat at the rickety table, filling in the flight plan. Martin stared for a moment: Douglas must be feeling bad if he was doing the paperwork.
“Morning,” he replied, dumping his flight bag and sitting down.
“And how is sir this morning?” Douglas sounded almost normal, but there was still an uncertainty in the way he regarded Martin.
“I'm... I'm all right. Where are Carolyn and Arthur?”
“Sorting out the cabin.” Douglas put his pen down. “Do you want tea?”
Martin stared. “What?”
“Tea, Martin. A hot beverage made by soaking leaves from-”
“I know what tea is. I'm just not used to you making it.”
“Well, I want one, so I may as well make you one at the same time. It's not an entirely selfless gesture.”
“Well... yes. Thank you.”
Douglas nodded and stood, heading to the small kitchenette at the back of MJN's portacabin. Martin bit his lip for a moment. If Douglas didn't bring yesterday up, then he would have to, and he had no idea how to start. He briefly considered just leaving it and carrying on as normal, but it was far too enormous an elephant to fit in the room. He fidgeted in his seat as Douglas boiled the kettle and made tea, twisting his fingers together.
Douglas put his mug down in front of him, the one emblazoned with “CAPTAIN” that Arthur had got him for his birthday. Martin mumbled his thanks and took a sip. The two sat in awkward silence for a moment, before Douglas spoke.
“Look, Martin, about yesterday-”
“It's fine,” he interrupted. “Well no, no, it's not fine, not - not entirely. I'm still annoyed with you. And Carolyn. You had no right to do what you did.” Martin paused, took a deep breath. Douglas looked on the verge of speaking, so he plunged ahead. “I'm all right, though. I... did some research yesterday, found out a bit more. And I think I'm... okay. Yeah. Okay.” He couldn't prevent a small smile tipping the corner of his mouth.
“Good,” said Douglas slowly. “I'm glad.” There was silence for a moment as they both drank their tea, before Douglas shoved the flight plan across the table at him. “Here you are then, sir. Flight plan to Oslo.”
“But you were doing it!”
“What? And take the captain's responsibility? Oh no, Martin, this is your job. Besides, you always redo them anyway.”
Martin scowled and yanked the flight plan towards him. “Fine, I'll make up for your supreme laziness. Again.”
“Excellent.” With that, Douglas leant back in his chair, picked up his paper, and began doing the crossword. Martin glared at him for a moment before turning back to the flight plan. The only sounds were the scratching of his pen and the rustling of Douglas' paper. Everything was... normal.
Ducking his head, Martin couldn't quite hide his smile.