FIC: Put A Ring On It R
Title:Put A Ring On It
Author: Unsentimental Fool
Fandom: Cabin Pressure
Characters: Martin, Douglas, Carolyn
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,700
Summary: Carolyn, at home, can't sleep. Douglas and Martin, from somewhere up in the sky, tell her a goodnight story. Competitively, of course.
Notes Slash. One shot story. With just the faintest tinge of crack ;-)
Somewhere over Russia the phone rings.
They both glance at it, surprised out of their separate trains of thoughts, then Douglas flicks the switch. "Carolyn?"
Douglas. Where are you?
"Exactly where we are supposed to be, as far as I know. Anything wrong?"
Not particularly. Just checking up on you. It's two am in Fitton.
"Well, we are in a small box a long way above the former USSR and likely to be so for several hours yet, should the laws of aerodynamics stay favourable."
Good. There is a pause. What are you doing?
"Flying an aeroplane. I believe it's what you pay us...me...for."
What else? You must be playing something to keep you awake.
There isa a slight stress on the second 'you'. Ah. Carolyn is suffering from insomnia again. Douglas thinks, though he can't be sure, that she may have consulted a large glass of whiskey already before calling them.
They aren't playing anything as it happens. The last game has lapsed and neither of them has proposed anything new. Douglas nearly says so, suddenly has a better idea. It is a dull flight, and Carolyn clearly wants entertaining.
"Just one moment,"
His finger goes down on the mute button. "How about a game, Martin?"
"What sort of game?" Martin looks suspicious, but that's normal.
"Carolyn can't sleep. I thought we'd tell her a bedside story. First one to cry off loses."
"That's all?"
"That's all. Are you in?"
"Yes, all right. What sort of story?"
Douglas smiles. "This sort." He takes his finger off the mute.
"You did in fact just come in at the end of something,
Oh yes? Did you win?
"Now the answer to that is rather interesting."
So tell me about it. Carolyn demands.
"Indeed I will. You know the cockpit heating keeps playing up." For once it hasn't on this trip; he motions Martin into silence.
Yes?
"This was about an hour ago. It had got uncomfortably hot in here, so we were down to our shirt sleeves, had both loosened our clothing a bit, undone top buttons, that sort of thing. And after a while I became aware of what might be described as an odd tension in the cockpit."
Martin opens his mouth to protest and Douglas shushes him again.
"It took me a little while to put my finger on it, but eventually I came to the conclusion that it was Martin. Wasn't it, Martin?"
Martin blinks at him. "Yes? Er, yes it was. You see, the heat had got too much and I was uncomfortable. All prickly and sweaty and..."
"Exactly. I felt rather sorry for him so I suggested that we might take our shirts off. Which we did. And I noticed, quite possibly for the first time, that our Captain had quite a nice torso, if you like skinny with added sweat. Meanwhile, what was Martin noticing, you ask."
I may well regret it but I'll bite. Martin?
"I was...looking at the flight instruments at the time. Definitely."
"That's right. Oblivious to my sideways glances, Martin was hard at work flying the plane. I could only admire his dedication. And the silver nipple ring, of course."
Carolyn whistles. Martin glares at Douglas.
"After a few minutes he must have become aware of my scrutiny because he turned round to me. I was sure that I was not wrong in thinking that his eyes widened a little in pleasure at the sight of his half-naked co-pilot, and his next words rather confirmed that. Martin?"
"I'll going to kill you." Martin hisses, quietly. "Yes, I said...I said...It's getting cooler in here again. I think we should put our shirts back on now."
"Classic avoidance behaviour, obviously. The signals could not be clearer. We were onto something here, and I for one, was prepared to go wherever it might lead. The only question was whether Martin would cry off, and thereby lose the game. So, Martin, did you cry off?"
"No, I did not!"
"No, of course you didn't. Unworthy thought of mine. In fact it was you who shifted just a little closer to me at this point and murmured throatily, "Douglas. There is something I need to know..."
Douglas waves a cheerful hand at Martin, picks up his coffee. Martin sticks two fingers up at him. On the phone line Carolyn is impatient. Go on.
"Yes. Throatily." Martin coughs, gives throatily a try. "Have you put on a few pounds recently?"
Douglas gives him a withering look and to do Martin justice he does have another go. "Because apart from that I can't help noticing that ...that... that you're in reasonably good shape for a man your age."
"Well, as you can imagine, Carolyn, Martin's silver tongue and honeyed words rather turned my head. My heart was fluttering like a imprisoned moth. There was a gooey sensation in the pit of my stomach. It was all too clear now; I had fallen hopelessly for my Captain and fallen hard. What was I to do?"
Cold shower? Eye test?
"Sadly Gertie is not well equipped for cold showers. Although at least the heating was down a bit by now. No, all I could do was act and hope my feelings were in some small way reciprocated. I leaned over to the captain's chair and brushed my lips across the back of his neck, very lightly, delighting in the tang of that sweat. But I hadn't anticipated the force of his reaction. Had I, Martin?"
"No, you jolly well hadn't! You can't go round nuzzling people's necks on the flight deck, Douglas! I had to give you a long talk on safety and professionalism. Which, I must say, you were suitably contrite about. 'Captain', you said, 'you are entirely right and I am completely in the wrong. Thank you for correcting me. Sir.'"
Martin grins defiantly back at Douglas, who sketches a salute. "Touche" he murmurs. It seems the game is on.
So what did you do next?
"The effect Martin's little show of...discipline...had on me was startling. I had suddenly to contend with this mental picture of him in leather with a riding crop, that silver nipple ring sparkling."
Oh dear God! That is not an image I wanted to be within five thousand miles of anyone having! Carolyn sounds appropriately horrified. Martin is trying not to laugh.
"Nonetheless, there it was, running around my brain like a little squirrel of sexiness. There was no help for it. I was going to have to blow his mind so thoroughly that he would forget flight procedures. That was going to be quite a challenge."
"Yes, I should think so! Impossible, in fact." Martin states, definitely.
"And yet, I thought I could do it. Because all the time that he was lecturing me on safely procedures I could see his eyes greedily devouring my body, his breath fast and jagged, his tongue sliding across wet lips. Martin wanted me; that much couldn't be denied."
Martin's expression is scathing but he gamely picks up the narrative. "So where were we? You wanted me, I apparently wanted you, but I wouldn't allow anything inappropriate on the flight deck. Well, this was the point where you started begging. On your knees, of course, squeezed in front of the console. He was promising all sorts of things, Carolyn. A good number of cheeses, as I recall. The loan of his car. A complete new set of Captain's uniform, at his own expense. Oh, and the secret of how to do that card trick he's so proud of; the one with the sevens. None of it moved me, of course. I just looked down at him in disdain and a little sadness that a man, even Douglas, could be reduced to this."
Martin is quite getting into the swing of this, now, Douglas thinks. Time to dial it up a notch. He pauses while Martin talks to the next ATC, gathering his thoughts.
"My words seemed to be having no effect. But from my position on the floor I could tell that Martin was in no way as physically indifferent as he was pretending. If words were not making an impact I would try actions. This time when I slowly stroked the inside of his thigh there was no protest, but only a gentle moan."
Good heavens! Moaning, Martin? On duty? What had come over you? Sometimes Douglas positively delights in his employer. Not often, but sometimes. This would never have happened at Air England.
Martin has pushed his hat forward on his head, which is tilted back with his eyes closed. Not recommended flying technique, perhaps but Douglas has an eye on everything, as always. He waits for the captain's response.
"The moan," Martin says firmly, without opening his eyes, "was only the precursor to the remarkably degrading things that Douglas was about to do from his position on the floor. Not things that a lady needs to hear about."
Sod that! Carolyn declares vehemently. If he can do them I can hear about them. No cheating, Martin! I want specifics, thank you!
"Right. Ok. Um." Martin opens his eyes and sends a desperate glance at Douglas who cuts in smoothly.
"Having established that the insides of my Captain's thighs were sensitive enough to elicit moaning, I naturally experimented further, with fairly impressive results. It became clear however that the liberation of Martin from his trousers was going to be necessary tout de suite, not least because it appeared that he no longer fit inside them particularly well.
"It was the work of moments to reduce him to glorious and complete nakedness. Apart from his socks, of course, which he insisted on keeping on in case his feet got cold."
"The heating was still playing up," Martin interjects.
"Quite. A wise precaution, obviously. Well, the sight of Martin's small but perfectly formed manhood threw me quite for a loop."
"I told you that the heating was broken. It was close to freezing in the cabin by then. Very unrepresentative." Martin insists firmly.
"Indeed. That must have been it. But again it was the piercings that surprised me most. It seemed our captain must had quite a thing for spiky metal bits. I could only imagine the pain he must have gone through to get them inserted."
Martin has his eyes scrunched shut. "Ow, Douglas!"
"I was beginning to suspect by this point that our mild mannered Martin was something of a kinky beast in the bedroom. Marvellous, I thought. But what, I'm sure you really want to know, Carolyn, was Martin thinking?"
That's exactly what I want to know. Martin? What were you thinking? Were you still thinking?
"Me? Well, apart from shivering a little in the bitter cold, which fortunately was starting to warm up again, I was thinking...that... Ah, that Douglas still had some clothes on. So I ordered him to remove them and he hastened to obey, whimpering a little. And panting. I think there was a little panting involved. "Please Sir," he begged from his position back on his knees. "Please let me pleasure you, Captain. I've wanted to show my heartfelt respect and admiration for you for so long now. Sir'."
I think you were right about that kink, Douglas. Carolyn comments, happily. So did you let him?
Martin sighs. "I had to get him to shut up somehow. All this hopeless adulation was becoming embarrassing. 'If you must,' I said. 'Try not to dribble.'"
Oh, Martin. Very nice. Douglas can see he is going to have to up his game again. He can hear Carolyn fighting giggles. So did you dribble, Douglas?
"Certainly not! My Captain's word is law, after all. Not that it was easy, with half Sheffield's annual steel output to work around but I am nothing if not resourceful. And it turned out that in space, or at least on a high altitude cargo flight which comes to much the same thing, no-one can hear Martin scream." He pauses for a beat. "Except yours truly, of course."
He raises a triumphant eyebrow at the other man. "Game?" he murmurs under his breath.
"Not yet." Martin's eyes are gleaming with the fire of competition now. He raises his voice a little.
"My co-pilot's performance was indeed on this occasion adequate. He'd obviously been practising. But, as I told him, if he was ever going to be more than merely a minion he really needed to be a little more assertive. ' You have needs of your own, Douglas,' I said.' I can see that. Stop being so shy. Tell me what you really want.' And he did."
Minion, huh? It is going to take more than this to throw Douglas.
"I had to think about it for a while. It's so seldom that I consider my own pleasure. But eventually I had it. ' Well, Sir,' I said, suitably deferential 'I think I'd like to fuck you senseless across the Captain's chair. Whilst wearing your hat. Would that be OK with you?'"
There is a pause that Douglas feels maybe goes on just a heartbeat or so too long. Martin is staring at him. It is possible that he's misjudged the mood. That would be unfortunate.
Wearing... Martin's... hat... Got that. Do carry on. Please.
"Making notes, Carolyn?" He's pretty sure she isn't making notes. She's covering for her temporary speechlessness.
Never mind what I'm doing. What did he say?
"Well, Martin? What did you say?" He thinks for a moment that he's won outright, but Martin pulls himself together enough to reply.
"'No, Douglas!' I said. 'Not senseless! A pilot losing consciousness during the duration of a flight would definitely constitute an unacceptably high risk scenario. Also I don't think it's actually possible, not even for you. But you may f.... may do that. You may even, on this one occasion only, mind, borrow my hat. Just don't do anything icky to it, please.'"
Nice recovery. To go any more graphic now would be inelegant; this is not a obscenity contest, after all. Douglas is prepared to call a dead heat on this one.
And? Carolyn prompts into the quiet.
"And I did. In the hat. Over the chair. With great enthusiasm and, if I might say so, rather startingly good technique. Although I regret to say that I never did manage to get him out of those socks."
"I'm still wearing them," Martin says cheerfully.
"He is. I imagine we'll probably get round to putting some more clothes on before we land."
Carolyn makes a small choking sound. Well, that was...interesting. I must say that it was very kind of you gentlemen to make one elderly woman so very happy.
"Oh yes?" It's Carolyn. Douglas is waiting for the punch line.
Well, of course! Have you any idea how much I fork out each month on single person supplements for hotel rooms for you two? This will take 30 percent off my accommodation budget at a stroke! I'll amend this week's bookings first thing in the morning. Good night, you adorably fluffy pair of lovebirds, you! The line goes dead.
Martin is looking at Douglas in trepidation. "She wouldn't."
"Come on, Martin! Of course she will. She'll find it hilarious! Don't worry, I'll find something to bargain with when we get back."
"Right."
There is a pause.
"Draw?" Douglas offers. "Because clearly I was far more creative, but you did keep up. And I did like the dribbling."
"It was rather good... Draw, I suppose."
Another pause, longer this time. Douglas thinks of several things to say, discards them. It is Martin who finally takes a breath.
"How about games that no-one actually knows the rules to?"
"Like?"
"Like tiddlywinks."
"Yes, that's quite good. More coffee?"
"Please."
The awkward moment, if there ever was an awkward moment, has passed. If Douglas, bringing the coffee up to the flight deck, looks at the back of his captain's head and briefly, very briefly, imagines a silver ring dangling from a pale nipple, all he says is "French cricket. No-one really knows the rules to that."
And the flight goes on.
Author: Unsentimental Fool
Fandom: Cabin Pressure
Characters: Martin, Douglas, Carolyn
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,700
Summary: Carolyn, at home, can't sleep. Douglas and Martin, from somewhere up in the sky, tell her a goodnight story. Competitively, of course.
Notes Slash. One shot story. With just the faintest tinge of crack ;-)
Somewhere over Russia the phone rings.
They both glance at it, surprised out of their separate trains of thoughts, then Douglas flicks the switch. "Carolyn?"
Douglas. Where are you?
"Exactly where we are supposed to be, as far as I know. Anything wrong?"
Not particularly. Just checking up on you. It's two am in Fitton.
"Well, we are in a small box a long way above the former USSR and likely to be so for several hours yet, should the laws of aerodynamics stay favourable."
Good. There is a pause. What are you doing?
"Flying an aeroplane. I believe it's what you pay us...me...for."
What else? You must be playing something to keep you awake.
There isa a slight stress on the second 'you'. Ah. Carolyn is suffering from insomnia again. Douglas thinks, though he can't be sure, that she may have consulted a large glass of whiskey already before calling them.
They aren't playing anything as it happens. The last game has lapsed and neither of them has proposed anything new. Douglas nearly says so, suddenly has a better idea. It is a dull flight, and Carolyn clearly wants entertaining.
"Just one moment,"
His finger goes down on the mute button. "How about a game, Martin?"
"What sort of game?" Martin looks suspicious, but that's normal.
"Carolyn can't sleep. I thought we'd tell her a bedside story. First one to cry off loses."
"That's all?"
"That's all. Are you in?"
"Yes, all right. What sort of story?"
Douglas smiles. "This sort." He takes his finger off the mute.
"You did in fact just come in at the end of something,
Oh yes? Did you win?
"Now the answer to that is rather interesting."
So tell me about it. Carolyn demands.
"Indeed I will. You know the cockpit heating keeps playing up." For once it hasn't on this trip; he motions Martin into silence.
Yes?
"This was about an hour ago. It had got uncomfortably hot in here, so we were down to our shirt sleeves, had both loosened our clothing a bit, undone top buttons, that sort of thing. And after a while I became aware of what might be described as an odd tension in the cockpit."
Martin opens his mouth to protest and Douglas shushes him again.
"It took me a little while to put my finger on it, but eventually I came to the conclusion that it was Martin. Wasn't it, Martin?"
Martin blinks at him. "Yes? Er, yes it was. You see, the heat had got too much and I was uncomfortable. All prickly and sweaty and..."
"Exactly. I felt rather sorry for him so I suggested that we might take our shirts off. Which we did. And I noticed, quite possibly for the first time, that our Captain had quite a nice torso, if you like skinny with added sweat. Meanwhile, what was Martin noticing, you ask."
I may well regret it but I'll bite. Martin?
"I was...looking at the flight instruments at the time. Definitely."
"That's right. Oblivious to my sideways glances, Martin was hard at work flying the plane. I could only admire his dedication. And the silver nipple ring, of course."
Carolyn whistles. Martin glares at Douglas.
"After a few minutes he must have become aware of my scrutiny because he turned round to me. I was sure that I was not wrong in thinking that his eyes widened a little in pleasure at the sight of his half-naked co-pilot, and his next words rather confirmed that. Martin?"
"I'll going to kill you." Martin hisses, quietly. "Yes, I said...I said...It's getting cooler in here again. I think we should put our shirts back on now."
"Classic avoidance behaviour, obviously. The signals could not be clearer. We were onto something here, and I for one, was prepared to go wherever it might lead. The only question was whether Martin would cry off, and thereby lose the game. So, Martin, did you cry off?"
"No, I did not!"
"No, of course you didn't. Unworthy thought of mine. In fact it was you who shifted just a little closer to me at this point and murmured throatily, "Douglas. There is something I need to know..."
Douglas waves a cheerful hand at Martin, picks up his coffee. Martin sticks two fingers up at him. On the phone line Carolyn is impatient. Go on.
"Yes. Throatily." Martin coughs, gives throatily a try. "Have you put on a few pounds recently?"
Douglas gives him a withering look and to do Martin justice he does have another go. "Because apart from that I can't help noticing that ...that... that you're in reasonably good shape for a man your age."
"Well, as you can imagine, Carolyn, Martin's silver tongue and honeyed words rather turned my head. My heart was fluttering like a imprisoned moth. There was a gooey sensation in the pit of my stomach. It was all too clear now; I had fallen hopelessly for my Captain and fallen hard. What was I to do?"
Cold shower? Eye test?
"Sadly Gertie is not well equipped for cold showers. Although at least the heating was down a bit by now. No, all I could do was act and hope my feelings were in some small way reciprocated. I leaned over to the captain's chair and brushed my lips across the back of his neck, very lightly, delighting in the tang of that sweat. But I hadn't anticipated the force of his reaction. Had I, Martin?"
"No, you jolly well hadn't! You can't go round nuzzling people's necks on the flight deck, Douglas! I had to give you a long talk on safety and professionalism. Which, I must say, you were suitably contrite about. 'Captain', you said, 'you are entirely right and I am completely in the wrong. Thank you for correcting me. Sir.'"
Martin grins defiantly back at Douglas, who sketches a salute. "Touche" he murmurs. It seems the game is on.
So what did you do next?
"The effect Martin's little show of...discipline...had on me was startling. I had suddenly to contend with this mental picture of him in leather with a riding crop, that silver nipple ring sparkling."
Oh dear God! That is not an image I wanted to be within five thousand miles of anyone having! Carolyn sounds appropriately horrified. Martin is trying not to laugh.
"Nonetheless, there it was, running around my brain like a little squirrel of sexiness. There was no help for it. I was going to have to blow his mind so thoroughly that he would forget flight procedures. That was going to be quite a challenge."
"Yes, I should think so! Impossible, in fact." Martin states, definitely.
"And yet, I thought I could do it. Because all the time that he was lecturing me on safely procedures I could see his eyes greedily devouring my body, his breath fast and jagged, his tongue sliding across wet lips. Martin wanted me; that much couldn't be denied."
Martin's expression is scathing but he gamely picks up the narrative. "So where were we? You wanted me, I apparently wanted you, but I wouldn't allow anything inappropriate on the flight deck. Well, this was the point where you started begging. On your knees, of course, squeezed in front of the console. He was promising all sorts of things, Carolyn. A good number of cheeses, as I recall. The loan of his car. A complete new set of Captain's uniform, at his own expense. Oh, and the secret of how to do that card trick he's so proud of; the one with the sevens. None of it moved me, of course. I just looked down at him in disdain and a little sadness that a man, even Douglas, could be reduced to this."
Martin is quite getting into the swing of this, now, Douglas thinks. Time to dial it up a notch. He pauses while Martin talks to the next ATC, gathering his thoughts.
"My words seemed to be having no effect. But from my position on the floor I could tell that Martin was in no way as physically indifferent as he was pretending. If words were not making an impact I would try actions. This time when I slowly stroked the inside of his thigh there was no protest, but only a gentle moan."
Good heavens! Moaning, Martin? On duty? What had come over you? Sometimes Douglas positively delights in his employer. Not often, but sometimes. This would never have happened at Air England.
Martin has pushed his hat forward on his head, which is tilted back with his eyes closed. Not recommended flying technique, perhaps but Douglas has an eye on everything, as always. He waits for the captain's response.
"The moan," Martin says firmly, without opening his eyes, "was only the precursor to the remarkably degrading things that Douglas was about to do from his position on the floor. Not things that a lady needs to hear about."
Sod that! Carolyn declares vehemently. If he can do them I can hear about them. No cheating, Martin! I want specifics, thank you!
"Right. Ok. Um." Martin opens his eyes and sends a desperate glance at Douglas who cuts in smoothly.
"Having established that the insides of my Captain's thighs were sensitive enough to elicit moaning, I naturally experimented further, with fairly impressive results. It became clear however that the liberation of Martin from his trousers was going to be necessary tout de suite, not least because it appeared that he no longer fit inside them particularly well.
"It was the work of moments to reduce him to glorious and complete nakedness. Apart from his socks, of course, which he insisted on keeping on in case his feet got cold."
"The heating was still playing up," Martin interjects.
"Quite. A wise precaution, obviously. Well, the sight of Martin's small but perfectly formed manhood threw me quite for a loop."
"I told you that the heating was broken. It was close to freezing in the cabin by then. Very unrepresentative." Martin insists firmly.
"Indeed. That must have been it. But again it was the piercings that surprised me most. It seemed our captain must had quite a thing for spiky metal bits. I could only imagine the pain he must have gone through to get them inserted."
Martin has his eyes scrunched shut. "Ow, Douglas!"
"I was beginning to suspect by this point that our mild mannered Martin was something of a kinky beast in the bedroom. Marvellous, I thought. But what, I'm sure you really want to know, Carolyn, was Martin thinking?"
That's exactly what I want to know. Martin? What were you thinking? Were you still thinking?
"Me? Well, apart from shivering a little in the bitter cold, which fortunately was starting to warm up again, I was thinking...that... Ah, that Douglas still had some clothes on. So I ordered him to remove them and he hastened to obey, whimpering a little. And panting. I think there was a little panting involved. "Please Sir," he begged from his position back on his knees. "Please let me pleasure you, Captain. I've wanted to show my heartfelt respect and admiration for you for so long now. Sir'."
I think you were right about that kink, Douglas. Carolyn comments, happily. So did you let him?
Martin sighs. "I had to get him to shut up somehow. All this hopeless adulation was becoming embarrassing. 'If you must,' I said. 'Try not to dribble.'"
Oh, Martin. Very nice. Douglas can see he is going to have to up his game again. He can hear Carolyn fighting giggles. So did you dribble, Douglas?
"Certainly not! My Captain's word is law, after all. Not that it was easy, with half Sheffield's annual steel output to work around but I am nothing if not resourceful. And it turned out that in space, or at least on a high altitude cargo flight which comes to much the same thing, no-one can hear Martin scream." He pauses for a beat. "Except yours truly, of course."
He raises a triumphant eyebrow at the other man. "Game?" he murmurs under his breath.
"Not yet." Martin's eyes are gleaming with the fire of competition now. He raises his voice a little.
"My co-pilot's performance was indeed on this occasion adequate. He'd obviously been practising. But, as I told him, if he was ever going to be more than merely a minion he really needed to be a little more assertive. ' You have needs of your own, Douglas,' I said.' I can see that. Stop being so shy. Tell me what you really want.' And he did."
Minion, huh? It is going to take more than this to throw Douglas.
"I had to think about it for a while. It's so seldom that I consider my own pleasure. But eventually I had it. ' Well, Sir,' I said, suitably deferential 'I think I'd like to fuck you senseless across the Captain's chair. Whilst wearing your hat. Would that be OK with you?'"
There is a pause that Douglas feels maybe goes on just a heartbeat or so too long. Martin is staring at him. It is possible that he's misjudged the mood. That would be unfortunate.
Wearing... Martin's... hat... Got that. Do carry on. Please.
"Making notes, Carolyn?" He's pretty sure she isn't making notes. She's covering for her temporary speechlessness.
Never mind what I'm doing. What did he say?
"Well, Martin? What did you say?" He thinks for a moment that he's won outright, but Martin pulls himself together enough to reply.
"'No, Douglas!' I said. 'Not senseless! A pilot losing consciousness during the duration of a flight would definitely constitute an unacceptably high risk scenario. Also I don't think it's actually possible, not even for you. But you may f.... may do that. You may even, on this one occasion only, mind, borrow my hat. Just don't do anything icky to it, please.'"
Nice recovery. To go any more graphic now would be inelegant; this is not a obscenity contest, after all. Douglas is prepared to call a dead heat on this one.
And? Carolyn prompts into the quiet.
"And I did. In the hat. Over the chair. With great enthusiasm and, if I might say so, rather startingly good technique. Although I regret to say that I never did manage to get him out of those socks."
"I'm still wearing them," Martin says cheerfully.
"He is. I imagine we'll probably get round to putting some more clothes on before we land."
Carolyn makes a small choking sound. Well, that was...interesting. I must say that it was very kind of you gentlemen to make one elderly woman so very happy.
"Oh yes?" It's Carolyn. Douglas is waiting for the punch line.
Well, of course! Have you any idea how much I fork out each month on single person supplements for hotel rooms for you two? This will take 30 percent off my accommodation budget at a stroke! I'll amend this week's bookings first thing in the morning. Good night, you adorably fluffy pair of lovebirds, you! The line goes dead.
Martin is looking at Douglas in trepidation. "She wouldn't."
"Come on, Martin! Of course she will. She'll find it hilarious! Don't worry, I'll find something to bargain with when we get back."
"Right."
There is a pause.
"Draw?" Douglas offers. "Because clearly I was far more creative, but you did keep up. And I did like the dribbling."
"It was rather good... Draw, I suppose."
Another pause, longer this time. Douglas thinks of several things to say, discards them. It is Martin who finally takes a breath.
"How about games that no-one actually knows the rules to?"
"Like?"
"Like tiddlywinks."
"Yes, that's quite good. More coffee?"
"Please."
The awkward moment, if there ever was an awkward moment, has passed. If Douglas, bringing the coffee up to the flight deck, looks at the back of his captain's head and briefly, very briefly, imagines a silver ring dangling from a pale nipple, all he says is "French cricket. No-one really knows the rules to that."
And the flight goes on.