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It wasn’t a long flight to Bern, barely long enough for a proper word-game (though Martin had been too distracted with his own thoughts to have harboured any hope of winning) and they arrived around noon, which meant there had been no in-flight lunch, and he was meant to get his own at the airfield. He had a bit of money on him, certainly enough for a sandwich, but by the time he was finished with the logs and poked his head out the flight-deck, he noticed that everyone had left already, to sight-see or whatever; even Arthur, which might or might not have been a small blessing.
The thing about having a bit of money in your pocket, when you were Martin Crieff, was that you had to try and keep in there for as long as you could. So he made his way to the galley, hoping there was a sandwich, or even leftovers, he wasn’t picky. He was roaming the fridge for something that wouldn’t be missed, when the bathroom door opened, making him jump and causing the slight ache on his lower back to pull something awful.
“Hi, Skipper!”
“I’m not…! I wasn’t…!” He sighed, his brain finally registering it was Arthur, and not Carolyn, smiling brightly in front of him, and that there would not be any dismemberment involved. “I was looking for a sandwich?”
“Right-o!” Arthur moved past him, moving Martin to the right a bit by grabbing his middle. His breath hitched at the contact, loud enough that it cause a tiny frown in Arthur, but only because his back was sore and it pulled a bit, that’s all; nothing else. Soon, the steward presented him with a brilliant smile and a chicken sandwich Martin had avoided taking earlier, simply because it was his favourite and he figured he would get caught if he took it. “There you go, Skip. Your favourite.”
“Uhm… thanks,” He moved away from the counter, which had been digging against his lower back, towards the passenger seats. Arthur had picked a sandwich for himself and was following him. “I thought you’d gone with your mum,” he said, sitting down carefully.
“Ah, she’ll come pick me up once she’s booked our hotel rooms. She was in a bit of a mood, said she wanted to walk it off and I wouldn’t help if I kept humming like an idiot.”
“Humming?”
He shifted in his seat, trying to get more comfortable. The worst part of a sore back wasn’t the pain, but the sense of tightness, almost claustrophobic, running from the base of his back up to his neck. Or the headaches, those were worse, though he didn’t have one today; though sometimes the worst was actually the pain. Not today, thankfully.
“Yeah! I got this song stuck in my head since this morning. It was in that movie… the one with the bear that kept stealing the baskets. I don’t remember the lyrics though, but it was like: NANA-NANA-NANA-NA!” Martin winced. “Ah, sorry, Skip.”
“Well, at least you’re in a better mood. I’m glad.”
“I am! You give the best advice, Skip!”
“Hardly.” He shifted again, with a little grunt.
“No, really,” This came out a bit quieter, gentler. “I was feeling a bit like I figure dogs must feel when they’re in the pound before someone picks them up, but what you said, I mean… I know you said it because I was feeling down, but I could tell you also meant it a bit, and that made me really happy.”
Martin just stared at his sandwich with a small frown. This should have made him glad; and it did, of course it did. It also confused the hell out of him. The wave of tenderness that washed through him was not something he was used to feeling for a friend. Then again, he’d never had many friends to begin with, and maybe it was normal. Except…
He hadn’t realised for how long he’d been contemplating on it, until Arthur’s concerned face came into view, studying him.
“Are you ok, Skip?”
“Uhm?” He blinked his slight daze away. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Just a bit of a sore back, is all.”
“Swimming!” Arthur beamed at him, like he always did when he knew something useful.
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what Minty had to do when she started with back pains. You should go swimming.”
He smiled apologetically.
“The gym fees are a bit out of my price range, and public pools…“ He shuddered. He wasn’t that desperate.
Arthur’s face fell slightly.
“Oh, I see.”
They stayed there, in silence, Martin finishing his lunch, and Arthur just looking into space, seemingly pondering on something. When his sandwich was done, Martin considered getting up and leaving, but Arthur’s contemplative state had him root to the spot, for some reason. Eventually, the young man snapped out of it and looked at him hesitantly.
“You know,… Minty always had back pains, so she taught me how to help her, and always said I was great at it.”
“Oh?”
Arthur nodded to himself, as if deciding something, and settled in a crouch on the seat next to him.
“Turn a little to your left, Skip,” he instructed, and Martin did without question, because there was nothing less threatening than Arthur, ever. He felt his friend’s hand land on the juncture of his neck and shoulders, and stiffened. “You have to relax, though, otherwise it won’t work. And you have to let me know if it hurts.”
He only managed a strangled noise in reply, but he did relax his shoulders.
It was all innocent enough, just a friend helping out. And maybe he had been on his own for too long, and that was the reason Arthur’s hands felt so very, very nice. He was, just as Minty had said, really good at it.
“I was thinking,” Arthur said, as he dug into a particularly tight knot that had Martin biting his lip to avoid an embarrassing moan. “About what we talked about this morning.”
“Yes,” Martin breezed out before he could stop himself. “Me too.”
“If love is what I think it is, then you can also love your friends, can’t you? I mean, I like taking care of you, Douglas too, but…. He doesn’t need it as much, I guess, and I want you to be happy, of course. I’m always smiling at you, and… well, I would hug you if you were sad.”
Even though his brain was a little fuzzy by then, and his body had turned to jelly, he registered Arthur’s words, and they caused him a mixture of sadness, tenderness, and something else, that he couldn’t identify. It had been bothering him all morning, this mixture of feelings, but now all his defences were down, and they hit him full force.
“I’m not supposed to say it, I guess,” Arthur continued softly and his hands, that had still been working on Martin’s back, but not with as much force, or intent, suddenly came to a stop on his shoulders. “But I do love you. A lot.”
Martin sighed, letting his head drop.
“It’s… it’s different, though. Isn’t it?” It wasn’t really a statement, it was an honest question, because suddenly he wasn’t so sure.
“I guess,” Arthur pulled away and Martin missed him instantly. “There are things you don’t do with your friends, I suppose.”
Like giving them earth-shattering massages, for instance?
Martin stood up and stretched, feeling like he’d been submitted to a spinal transplant or something equally renewing. He was nowhere near to clearing his present confusion, but he was suddenly clear on how to achieve it. He stared at Arthur’s pensive face and smiled.
“You know what Bern is famous for, Arthur?”
“What, Skip?”
“Bears,” Arthur’s face lit up with barely contained excitement. “They even have a bear pit. I figure, we can call Carolyn for the details on our accommodations, and spend the day looking at bears.”
“Wow, Skip, that would be brilliant!”
Martin hesitated for a moment, before extending his hand for Arthur to take; which he did, with a squeeze and all.
“Let’s go, then.”