Fic: Third Time's a Charm
Title: Third Time's a Charm
Pairing/characters: Martin/Carolyn
Rating: PG-13/R (Language)
Warnings/Triggers: None
Wordcount: 1991 Words
Summary: Filled for Cabin Pressure prompt meme asking for Martin/Carolyn. Martin is tongue-tied when uncaffinated and confused as to why Carolyn is looking so dangerous the morning after sex.
Notes: Had to google-image Stephanie Cole to write this. This fic is unbeta-ed and it goes without saying that I don't own any of the characters and I'm doing this for my own free amusement. Btw, comments are lovely! Any comment will do.
It was the third time this month. Or as Carolyn thought, third time this decade that Carolyn had any sex. A woman past forty was practically considered asexual these days, so she found herself surprised that she was in another man’s bed. A gangly, ginger-haired man who was old enough to be her son, by the name of Martin. The covers were pulled up to his chin and he looked so much at peace, she could have almost pretended that they were platonically sharing a bed together like they did numerous times in hotel rooms, instead of having him mercilessly shag her senseless. The boy lacked technique, he was predictably fumble-ly, apologetic and disbelieving, but he made up for it in enthusiasm! Normally after the deed was done, Martin would scramble out of the bed as if he was chased by a swarm of bees, it would have been comedic if it wasn’t a bit hurtful. Third time’s a charm as the saying goes, since Martin was obviously too exhausted to do much than stay put. It might also have to do with the fact that this was his bed and it would be mighty awkward to escape out of one’s own bed after sex.
She got off the bed, found and put on Martin’s ratty blue dressing gown and wandered off to see what she could fix for herself and Martin for breakfast. There was a mini-fridge in his small attic apartment and a hotplate and microwave nearby. Martin often came to the flat share at odd hours in the night or morning, reluctant to use the collective kitchen downstairs. There was some tinned milk in the fridge, a lonely lemon and a loaf of stale bread. She found some tinned stew nearby and decided that was the best she could muster at his flat. She opened the tin of soup and heated it up in a pot on the hotplate. She found the electric kettle to boil some water for the instant coffee she found on top of the microwave. Martin was always so insistent about his coffee while flying Gertie, he would appreciate the coffee in the morning.
“Carolyn?”
“Oh good, you’re awake. And no escaping this time, and I don’t even have to cover the escape routes, seeing that you live here. I must keep that in mind next time we have sex.”
Martin rubbed his eyes and blinked wildly, a confused expression came into his eyes as he was trying to decipher if he did anything wrong.
“Escape route? If you wanted to escape, what difference would it make that I live here?”
Oh, now her eyes were looking dangerous, Martin realized with a frantic expression in his eyes as he tried to figure out why Carolyn was upset with him. His mother told him, when in a panic and in doubt, it was best to ask why someone was upset.
“I’m sorry Carolyn, I’ve seem to have to put you off. I’ll leave....I mean! I’ll help you with the...the...”
“Heating up the tin soup?”
“Yes. That.”
The boy looked so obviously lost and confused and eager to please, Carolyn found it hard to be angry with him for much longer. Whatever Martin does, he does not intend to hurt. If Carolyn was a younger woman and had not known the young man for three years, she would have left him, being absolutely frustrated and infuriated. But the boy had an instinct for getting into trouble inadvertently, whether it was an American airport security guard or with his boss/...slash whatever this is.
The soup bubbled quietly, she turned off the hotplate and served the soup with the crusty stale bread. Martin sat by the low coffee table, she made the instant coffee while he ate quietly, refusing to look at her. She sat down by the coffee table and pushed the coffee and tinned milk in front of Martin, hearing mumbled thanks. He seemed to be working the courage to say something; he had that look on his face.
“Carolyn....I’m sorry if I seem a bit...I mean, I don’t do morning afters very well. It’s sort of what I do....”
“Martin, are you telling me you regularly leave your girlfriends in bed in this manner after a night of sex?”
“Erm, yes?”
“And it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m an older woman, way past my prime? I have folds, wrinkles and droopy unmentionables?”
“Oh, I don’t mind that.”
“Forgive me Martin, but I find that hard to believe.”
“But we had sex with the lights on!”
“Of course, that is always an indication that a man isn’t disgusted by a woman’s body!”
“Oh hell, I’m in a mess again. You just won’t believe anything I say! It’s always like this...I can’t get my point across...Why is it so hard to believe that I wanted to sleep with you? Couldn’t you take my word for it?”
Carolyn took a look at Martin, he was looking away from her with a very grim expression on his face.
“I’m no good with words, Carolyn. I was hoping my...uh, enthusiasm would be enough.”
Carolyn pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. She remembered his look of adoration and bewilderment after their first time in bed, shocked by the pleasure he had with her. No, it wasn’t a look of disgust by any means.
“Try your best, Martin. I’m afraid I don’t really understand why you’d want to sleep with a grumpy woman twice your age.”
Her voice held a certain vulnerability that Martin hadn’t heard before, it wasn’t putting up a challenge for Martin to meet...it was heartbreakingly defenceless. Martin didn’t like that he could make a formidable woman like Carolyn sound like that, she was owed an attempt of an explanation.
“Oh, curiosity, at first. I’ve always had an interest in older women, they seem to have this misguided notion that I’m an attractive man and they are usually, exceedingly easy to sleep with. A pretty girl my age would never look at me, but as soon as I flirt with an older woman, they seem....flattered and they give me more leeway than a young girl would normally have.”
He paused a bit, reaching for the tinned milk to stir into his coffee. He took a sip and counted to ten before he began an explanation that could prevent Carolyn from emasculating him to pieces before he even finished his coffee.
“Older women are...generous, more forgiving and expect a bit less...it’s actually quite relaxing and exhilarating to know I have a fighting chance to make a woman happy in bed. It’s nothing to do with the body...I mean, I don’t like mine much, so....I understand when...uh, older women are horribly judgemental about theirs, it tends to take away attention from my own body....I mean, what I think of my own bony knees...young women wouldn’t like my knees, older women don’t care.... oh god, that sounds selfish and narcissistic in a roundabout insecure way...because I’m not an opportunist twat that I’m sounding like now, the kind of unattractive sod who’d accept any sort of sex to flatter his ego...now I’m rambling...”
“I’m not your pity fuck, Martin.”
Martin groans into his soup, when he looked up, he has an expression of a defeated and cornered squirrel.
“Oh, this is so typical! I can’t convince you of anything. What do you want me to say? Do you want a laundry list of your positive attributes?”
“Yes, Martin. A laundry list would do!”
This conversation was taking a disconcerting turn. If Martin didn’t know any better, he felt like he was being scolded by his mother for being caught in a lie, except he was telling the truth. He took a look a Carolyn, who still had that very disconcerting and vulnerable look on her face, which wasn’t right. Carolyn was indomitable, which was what made Carolyn amazing. Martin found himself focusing on setting the world right by restoring Carolyn to her old self.
“You have this look just before we...uh...”
“Take off our clothes?”
“Yes, but more so when I’m taking off mine...it’s quite arresting. You have very shapely legs...”
“My legs? These short and stubby things?”
“Yes, I’ve seen them stomp on rude passengers’ feet, it’s oddly arousing. And they’re not stubby!”
“Oh. Do go on, Martin.”
“Your hands are always so nice and rounded. Your hair is soft and curly, it always snags on my fingers just so. And very lovely eyes, nice blue colour. They’re your best feature, they’re beautiful when they’re kindly, arousing when they’re defiant. And you’re curvy...in places I like...the hips, the uh....”
“Breasts?”
“Yes, thank you. Calves too! And nicely shaped upper arms that tapered around the elbow! And ankles! You stomach is soft and more narrow than I imagined them to be and it has this marvellous softness...I said it was soft before, didn’t I? Oh god, that’s what older women tend to be insecure about...softness. I don’t see why, it’s better than being boney, and I speak from personal experience. And the freckles on your shoulders are lovely. Must I go on? It’s starting to sound feel like a very bizarre kind of phone sex I’m participating in....except I’m not describing what I’m wearing but what you’re wearing...or lack of wearing...not wearing at all...oh god, I’m absolutely rubbish at this.”
“No argument there.”
Martin looked at Carolyn and found no traces of disdain or sarcasm. Her eyes danced with amusement.
“I didn’t sleep with you out of desperation...I’m not...predatory in...”
“So why do you rush out of my house after a night of sex like bat out of hell? Every time?”
“Oh, is this what you’re upset about! You do know that Arthur lives in your house, I thought that was reason enough.”
“Silly boy, do you think me so stupid as to not make sure Arthur goes off on a fool’s errand before I invite you over for sex?”
“An over-night fool’s errand?”
“You’d be surprised how long it takes to find special supplies for Gertie in south Wales.”
“You send Arthur all the way to Wales just for a night of sex?!”
“Oh I have an old friend that he stays with. Poor Genevieve is very lonely and Arthur loves taking her to town looking for discontinued flavours of crisps and obscure brands of plum brandy. And it was not just a night, but a weekend, if you didn’t flee from my bed as if someone had set fire to it. I tried to tell you before we had sex, but I could never get a word in edgewise.”
“Every time? Do you mean to tell me that you anticipated sleeping with me that first night you invited me to your house?”
“No, of course not you silly boy! Sex is not the only reason why I send Arthur out to Wales, I’m his mother but even I have limits as to how much Arthur I can take. Our first time was just a very happy coincidence...ginger haired captains who get caught out in the rain because they locked their keys inside their vans are very happy coincidences indeed.”
“Oh.”
A comfortable silence descended upon them. Martin had a thoughtful look on his face, he did look very attractive when he was in one of his rare calm moments.
“Is Arthur in Wales now?”
“No. He’s visiting my old friend Agatha in Kent.”
“You seem to have old friends all over the UK...”
“Yes, I do. All over the globe in fact, one of the perks of being an airline stewardess for twenty years. Arthur is a dear boy, he likes visiting old ladies, for different reasons than yours of course.”
“Carolyn, I did not need that image in my head.”
“No, you don’t. Let’s replace them, shall we? Now that I know how much you like my stubby, shapely legs...”
“Oh god....”
End