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“I’ve finished the rota, Douglas!” Martin poked his head into the lounge, where Douglas was sitting reading.
Douglas looked up, the happy grin he usually wore at Martin being in his house – no, their house, he corrected himself mentally – freezing on his face. “Rota?” he enquired.
“Yep!” Martin marched in, looking prouder than Douglas had seen him since last week’s passenger had congratulated him on a smooth landing. “I figured that since we live together now…” his satisfied beam softened into something briefly besotted that made Douglas chuckle in spite of himself – “... we should evenly distribute the chores!”
“Chores?” Douglas was still distracted by the sight of Martin smiling so contentedly.
“Well, yes.” Martin looked a little perplexed now. “Washing up, hoovering, dusting… you must do housework, surely?”
“Oh!” Douglas shook his head. “Not really. Well, occasionally. But I have someone.”
“You have a cleaner?” Martin’s face seemed caught between amazement and envy. Douglas reached for him, but Martin turned away in agitation, leaving him groping at empty air. “But that wasn’t on the budget spreadsheet you wrote out for me!”
Douglas scratched his head. “Well… no,” he ventured. “I forgot about it. But I wouldn’t expect you to pay anything for Emma. It’s my choice to have her rather than do it myself.”
Martin’s expression was appalled. “But I live here too!”
“Since this morning,” Douglas cut in, smoothly.
“Yes, but… I’ll be making a mess too. That’s not fair….”
Douglas sighed in frustration. “I don’t mind.”
“I do.”
“Martin…” He managed to catch hold of the captain this time, grasping his hips to pull him gently sideways into his lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise this would bother you.”
Martin appeared somewhat mollified. “It does,” he admitted, but Douglas took it as a good sign that he then burrowed his nose warmly into Douglas’ neck.
“OK…” Douglas cudgelled his brains. “I really don’t want to take up housework, love. Not at my advanced age.”
“Oh, shush.” Martin dug him in the ribs. “Not the age remarks again.”
“Yes, well…” Douglas bumped a kiss against his forehead. “I take it that contributing to Emma’s wages will be out of your price range?”
“How much do you pay her?” Martin asked, forlornly.
“£10 an hour, and she usually comes for two hours a week, so…” Douglas felt Martin tense up on his lap, and he sighed. “I don’t really want to lay her off, Martin. She’s worked for me for years.”
Martin hesitated for a long, long moment. “OK,” he mumbled.
“OK?” Douglas was floored. “You’re agreeing with me?”
Martin nodded. “If you’re sure it doesn’t matter to you. That I’m not paying my share of her wages.”
“It really, really doesn’t.” Douglas was still feeling utterly taken aback. Martin, sacrificing his pride… for me? His heart throbbed with sudden warmth, and he pulled Martin to meet him in a tender kiss.
“What was that for?” smiled Martin as they finally broke apart, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.
Douglas shrugged, stroking his back. “Because I know how much that means. Because you live here now. Because I wanted to.”
“Hmm.” Martin looked more relaxed, but Douglas could still see a trace of anxiety in his eyes.
An idea came to him, suddenly. “Tell you what. You can’t pay her wages, and that’s absolutely fine. But I am hereby putting you in charge of Emma’s presents.”
“Presents?” Martin was confused.
“Yes. Christmas, her birthday, her two children’s birthdays…”
“You give her presents?”
“Of course! She’s worked for me for over a decade. And her two boys were born the years either side of Emily, so we’ve always done presents for each other's kids. And now – that’s your responsibility.”
“O…K…” Martin pondered for half a minute, then his eyes brightened. “I could get them the Spitfire modelling kits that I always wanted! And the pilot Action Man – and there’s that new film out, Planes – I’m sure there’ll be merchandise…”
“Steady, steady,” Douglas laughed, delighted to see Martin so excited. “There’s only one birthday and Christmas each a year, you know.”
“I know. But still – I’d better start planning.”
“Indeed.” Douglas drew him back into a long kiss, still snickering affectionately inside at Martin’s enthusiasm, which was positively vibrating through them both.
“Mmm.” Martin broke off with a little shiver. “Lovely. I approve of this living-together business.” Douglas reached higher up his back in invitation, but Martin was not to be diverted and bounced upright again off his lap. “Right then. Where are all your appliance instruction manuals?”
“Instruction manuals?”
“Yes, for the oven, or the dishwasher, or the microwave… they’re all new to me, I’ve got to start learning the systems.” Martin put hands on hips, fixed him with a gimlet eye.
Douglas couldn’t hold back a gale of laughter this time. Before Martin could do anything to prevent him, he’d stretched up and rugby tackled Martin back on to the sofa, tickling him mercilessly until he was writhing and wheezing and looking thoroughly undignified.
When at last Douglas paused for breath, lying pleasantly on top of his new housemate, Martin glared at him. “What was that for?”
“Because you, captain, are ridiculous.” Before Martin could say anything, Douglas had kissed him teasingly on the nose. “And I love you.”