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Martin flipped through his flight log and decided it couldn’t hurt anything to give his calculations a triple-check. As he skimmed the columns of numerals, his mind began to wander, until he found himself thinking once again about Zurich and the open job offer from SwissAir. Martin closed the flight log and admitted to himself that the real reason he was still sitting in GERTI’s flight deck was because it provided a tiny distraction from the decision that had come to consume an increasing amount of his waking thoughts. Martin hated these kinds of problems, the kind that only got bigger and more horrible the more you tried to not think about them, which in turn made trying to solve them even worse. Martin put aside the logbook, and, feeling unusually rebellious and petulant, propped his feet up on the console next to his hat. He stared out of GERTI’s windscreen, watching fat drops of rain splatter and run down, smearing the dim lights of the airfield into bright blurs.
Martin couldn’t help but see the humor in his situation. Two years ago he would have given anything to get a real job offer, with an actual salary at a reputable airline. And now, when he’d actually gotten one, the thought of accepting it made something twist tight in his chest. Leaving MJN wouldn’t just be a slight job change, it would change his entire life. When he sat down and thought about it in the privacy of his own mind, that massive of a life change terrified him beyond almost anything he’d ever done. Even landing a plane with an engine failure had a checklist to follow, an outline of what to do, which somehow made it far less terrifying than deciding what direction to take his career. There was no “Martin’s Life-Changing Career Decision” checklist. Maybe he should make one.
Martin closed his eyes and chewed his lower lip, an old habit that he had tried to break because it looked childish but one that he still found calming in times of stress. No one was here to see anyway. The truth of the matter was that he didn’t want to leave MJN because he had grown to love it and because Carolyn, Douglas, and Arthur had become like a family to him. If he moved to Zurich, there was a good chance he wouldn’t see any of them very often. Sure, they would make the initial attempts to meet up, but soon enough no one’s schedule would work and they all would have other plans far more urgent than catching up with some bloke they worked with for a while.
The rattle of the door lock startled Martin out of his thoughts and he sat up, looking around the dark plane. Who would be here this time of night? Certainly no one up to any good. Panic rose in his chest and Martin frantically scanned the flight deck for anything that could be used as a weapon. The only thing remotely useful was the fire axe, and he yanked it down, hoping he wouldn’t actually have to use it on the burglar. He stood in the doorjamb, trying to come up with an escape plan that didn’t involve opening an emergency hatch and jumping twenty feet or so to the ground.
The door opened and Martin could just make out a tall, bulky shape backlit by the airfield lights.
“Stop there, I have a weapon!” Martin tried to make his voice sound strong and authoritative, but even he detected a quaver. Much to his surprise, the shadow threw its arms over its head and actually cowered.
“Oh God, please don’t hurt me!” The fear drained out of Martin when the man spoke.
“Arthur?” Martin asked.
“Skip? What are you doing here?” Arthur replied. Martin reached over and turned on the lights, which made both of them cringe at the sudden brightness.
“I was finishing the logbooks,” Martin explained. “What are you doing here?” Arthur’s hair and coat were damp from the rain and he still looked rather frightened.
“Well, I thought I forgot my coat on the plane, so I came back to get it, but when I reached into my pocket to get my keys, I realized that I was wearing my pocket and hadn’t forgotten my coat after all. Could you put that axe down, Skip? You look really scary. Which would be great if I were a bad guy, but I’m not.”
Martin looked at his hand and realized he was indeed still wielding the fire axe as though it were a sword. He hastily set it down.
“Sorry Arthur. I didn’t mean to scare you. Wasn’t really expecting company,” Martin explained sheepishly.
“Yeah Skip, it’s awfully late. You should go home. It’s not like anyone ever checks the logbooks anyway. And besides, you’re taking your new job soon. Mum’s not going to sack you for slacking off a bit.”
Martin managed a smile. “No, I suppose not. Well, I guess I’ll be getting home then. Go on, I’ll lock up.”
“Brilliant! Are you excited about your new job, Skip? Zurich sounds really brilliant! And you’ll get to fly planes and date a princess!”
Martin wished he could feel some of Arthur’s excitement, but all he could muster was a sort of tight smile.
“Yeah, it’ll be... w-well, it’ll be different. But change is good, right? I mean, it’s my dream job and Theresa is lovely, and Switzerland seems great, even though I’ve never lived there and my French is pretty bad and my German is really bad, and I’ll get paid to fly, even though I would fly anyway if no one paid me, which I’m doing now and it’s not so bad because how could flying be bad? And...and...yes, I think it will be...alright.” Martin stared at the floor and Arthur’s worn blue Converse trainers, feeling his cheeks heat as the words poured out.
“Just alright, Skip? Not brilliant? You don’t seem very happy. In fact, you seem the opposite of happy, and you look sort of sick too,” Arthur said, sounding concerned. Martin pulled in a deep breath and held it until he felt calmer, then let it out slowly. If he was going to talk to anyone, it may as well be Arthur, who at least would listen to him and not pass judgement.
“Sorry Arthur. It’s just that I’ve been having some trouble...well, career decisions are hard, aren’t they?”
“Do you want to talk about it? Maybe I could just listen and you could talk and it would help to hear things out loud? When I took that class about how to understand people, the teacher said that sometimes people just need someone to listen to them and not say anything, so that they can work out their problems for themselves but still feel like they have support. Is that what you need, Skip? Because I’m great at that.” Arthur looked so genuine and eager that Martin did smile a little for real.
“You don’t want to listen to my problems, Arthur. You should go home, it’s late,” Martin said gently. Arthur shook his head and turned to close the door.
“No, Skip. You need someone to help you, and I want to help you. Mum’s out with Herc anyway, which means they’ll be back later, which means I don’t really want to be at home for a bit,” Arthur said. Martin blinked and refused to let himself think about what Arthur meant in any kind of detail. Arthur’s fingers closed around his wrist and pulled him toward the flight deck.
“Come on Skip, sit down with me. We don’t even have to talk about what you’re sad about. I think you just need someone to talk to.” Arthur sat down unceremoniously in the gap between the doorjamb and pilots’ chairs and pulled on Martin’s wrist. Against his better judgement, Martin turned off the lights sat down on the floor, shoulder-to-shoulder with Arthur in the small space.
“This is brilliant! It’s like a secret meeting. Like spies! We’d be brilliant spies. Well, you would Skip, not me. You’d remember all the codes and stuff. Did you want to be a spy when you were a kid?”
“No, I wanted to be a pilot.”
“Oh, right, of course. And you are one! You’re the only person I know who grew up to be exactly what they wanted to be,” Arthur said, making it sound like some kind of great achievement to be an unpaid pilot at a floundering charter airline. Airdot.
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. That’s why you must be so happy you get to go to Zurich. Except you’re not. Why aren’t you happy, Skip?”
“W-w-well... it’s just...” Martin stared at the floor, chewing his lip. He tried to organize his thoughts into something logical that wasn’t just a mantra of ohgodcan’tdothisnonononono, and became aware of how close he was sitting to Arthur, close enough that he could smell the traces of fabric softener and rain from outside on Arthur’s clothes. Arthur’s warm fingers squeezed his wrist gently.
“You can tell me, Skip. It’s alright,” Arthur coaxed.
Martin sighed and forced himself to quit worrying at his lip before he chewed it raw. “It’s just... I really like MJN. I mean, I hated it at first, it was like coming to a different planet. But now that I’ve been here for so long, it’s not just my job. It’s kind of like... my family and best friends, I guess. I look forward to work. How many people can say that?” Martin spoke slowly, trying to say exactly what he meant. Arthur nodded, his thumb absently stroking the inside of Martin’s wrist. Martin found it calming.
“That’s so nice, Skip. I mean, that you think we’re kind of like your family. Your family is brilliant! Especially your mum.” Martin smiled. His mother still asked after Arthur every time they spoke.
“And,” Martin continued, “what would Carolyn do without a pilot? It’s not as if qualified people are lining up to volunteer at a tiny charter airline.”
“Oh Douglas could be the captain. He’d be great. And then all we would need is a first officer,” Arthur said, as though the answer was obvious.
“That doesn’t really solve the problem.”
“Oh, well, I’m sure Douglas would figure something out. He’s really good at that,” Arthur said. Martin pulled his knees up to rest his arms on them and stared into the middle distance.
“And if I went to Zurich I’d have to be requalified to fly their planes... it’s months of training. It would be like starting all over again. Again.” Martin dropped his chin to rest on his folded arms.
“Well at least GERTI won’t miss you,” Arthur said.
“Of course she won’t, she’s a plane.” Martin fought the urge to roll his eyes.
“You’ll miss her though. I mean, I would miss her, if I left. And I’ll miss you too, Skip. You’re one of my best friends.” Arthur’s earnest confession was both sweet and unexpected. Martin blinked, and stared at Arthur.
“Really?” He wasn’t used to people liking him, and he definitely wasn’t used to being considered someone’s “best friend.”
Arthur beamed at him. “Oh yeah. You and Douglas. You’re always so nice to me even when I’m a clot and I love working with you. I’m happy you got your dream job, but I’ll be really sad when you go. Douglas will be sad too. But don’t tell him I told you that.”
“Of course not,” Martin said, hugging his knees more tightly to his chest. He and Douglas had created a tenuous friendship over the years they had worked together, but Martin had never thought that Douglas might actually consider him anything more than a co-worker.
“Don’t be sad, Skip. You’ll figure it out. You’re brilliant! And MJN will be okay. Mum probably won’t even want to do it anymore after she and Herc get married,” Arthur said.
“They’re getting married!?” Martin nearly choked.
“Well, probably. She keeps saying no but she’ll say yes eventually,” Arthur said. Martin looked at Arthur, and for the first time noticed that he also looked a little sad, especially when he talked about Carolyn and Herc together, and the possibility that MJN might not continue indefinitely.
“Do you feel better yet Skip?” Arthur asked.
“Not really. Thanks for listening though,” Martin replied. Arthur frowned and seemed to think for a moment.
“You know what helps me feel better sometimes?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“Well, you may not like it and that’s okay, but sometimes when I’m feeling really sad and lonely, the only thing that really helps is a hug. Do you need a hug Skip?”
Martin’s throat suddenly tightened and he was caught between the urges to laugh out loud and cry hysterically. Here he was, sitting on the flight deck trying to make one of the biggest decisions of his life, and Arthur was offering to hug him. The more he thought about it, the more a hug sounded wonderful to the tiny child-Martin deep inside his psyche that wanted nothing more than for his mother to appear and hug him and tell him everything would be fine.
“Well... if you think it might help,” he finally said, feeling suddenly shy. Without warning, he was surrounded by warmth and the smell of Arthur as Arthur pulled Martin tight to his chest. The effect was immediate and astounding. Martin felt the tension drain slowly from his body as Arthur settled his head under his chin and wrapped an arm around his waist.
“Is this okay Skip?” Arthur asked. “Your hair smells really good. In Ipswich they taught us that people need to be touched lots of times a day because it’s calming. Are you calm?”
Much to Martin’s surprise, he was. Well, calmer. This was rather pleasant actually. Not at all like when his brother squeezed him so hard he could barely breathe and spun him around until he got dizzy.
“Yeah Arthur, this is...nice,” Martin said.
“Just tell me when you want me to let go. I don’t want to squish you,” Arthur said.
“You’re not squishing me.” Martin could hear Arthur’s heart beating, slow and steady just beneath his cheek.
“So Skip, how’s your girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Martin corrected automatically.
“How’s your... friend who’s a girl?”
“We’re just dating, Arthur. It’s not that serious.”
“Ah. So is she good at kissing?”
“What?!” Martin exclaimed, his voice cracking. He was blushing; he was glad it was dark so Arthur couldn’t see.
“Have you kissed her yet? Was it nice?” Arthur asked again.
“Arthur that’s private,” Martin said.
“So yeah? Good for you, Skip. I love kissing,” Arthur said. Martin smiled into Arthur’s chest. Talking with Arthur was always interesting; you never knew quite where you would end up.
“Have you kissed many people, Arthur?” Martin asked. He couldn’t resist taking a little advantage of Arthur’s openness; it only seemed fair after he had blurted out all of his own insecurities.
“Oh yeah, loads. What about you, Skip?”
“Um...w-well, not loads. But...enough.”
“Oh I don’t think you can do enough kissing. Have you kissed just girls or boys and girls?” Arthur asked with genuine curiosity. Martin felt himself flush even more deeply, as memories of his awkward teenage self at school and later, his still-awkward adult self at university surfaced.
“B-both.” Martin found he couldn’t manage any more than that.
“Brilliant! Me too. Did you and your friends ever kiss each other just to see what it was like? And then it was fun because you had a little secret?”
“Y-yes.” Martin hadn’t ever quite felt that way about it before, but upon reflection, he had enjoyed the shy, awkward kisses he’d shared with a few close friends in school, given and taken freely in the spirit of curiosity and friendship. Arthur squeezed Martin gently, as though he’d felt him turn inward again.
“Are you feeling better yet, Skip?”
Martin nodded. He was feeling better, actually. The horrible, choking anxiety had lessened significantly and he actually felt relaxed, despite how ridiculous he probably looked, sitting on the floor in uniform at one in the morning, wrapped in a hug-that -was- really-more-of-a-cuddle from his younger friend.
“You know, Skip,” Arthur said lightly, “I’d really like to kiss you. Only if you wanted to though. But you look like you’d be nice to kiss, and since you’re leaving, I probably won’t have another chance to ask you. It could just be a friend kiss, though. I wouldn’t want Theresa to be mad at you or anything.” Arthur’s tone was casual and gentle, not at all lustful, and Martin was sure that Arthur could probably make the kinkiest sex acts sound sweet and mundane. Martin sat up and Arthur released him but kept an arm around his waist.
“That’s um, really nice of you Arthur... but I wouldn’t want you to feel awkward or anything,” Martin said.
“It won’t be awkward, Skip. I think it would be great! And I think you would feel better.” Martin bit his lip, and he realized Arthur was staring at his mouth. A little thrill of excitement ran through him at the thought of making out on the flight deck. The CAA would definitely not approve. Martin’s eyes flicked to Arthur’s mouth, which looked soft and inviting. He looked into Arthur’s warm brown eyes and breathed an internal sigh of relief when Arthur seemed to read his thoughts and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on his mouth. It was sweet, chaste, and warm, and Martin closed his eyes and allowed himself to let go for a just a few minutes.
Arthur pulled Martin close with an arm around his waist and sucked gently on his lower lip, bringing up his free hand to cradle the back of Martin’s skull. His thumb stroked just behind Martin’s ear, raising little tingles of sensation along his scalp and neck. Martin’s mind emptied of all thoughts save for his awareness of the warmth of Arthur’s mouth and body against his. Martin let Arthur lead, shivering at the slide of Arthur’s tongue against his own.
When Arthur finally pulled away, he was grinning.
“Oh Skip, that was amazing. I knew you would be great at kissing.” Martin’s lips still tingled and Arthur gently massaged his scalp, ruffling up his his hair in the back. Martin couldn’t help smiling back at Arthur.
“That was rather nice, wasn’t it? And I do feel better, much better actually.” Martin felt something warm spread through his chest at Arthur’s praise and genuine admiration.
“That’s great, Skipper. Do you know what you’re going to do about your job offer?”
Martin took a deep breath. “Yes. I-I...I’m going to tell them no. A salary doesn’t buy happiness, and I’m quite happy right where I am. I can’t leave. I’d be miserable.” Martin was hesitant to simply follow his instincts about anything, usually because all that got him was teasing from Douglas or a lecture from Carolyn, This decision, though, felt right in the same way that leaving MJN felt wrong.
Arthur’s smile somehow got even bigger.
“That’s brilliant Skip! I didn’t really want you to go. And Mum and Douglas would be so sad.”
Martin hauled himself up off the floor, cringing as his knees popped. He held out his hand to help Arthur up and handed him his coat.
“Come on Arthur. Time to go home. Big day tomorrow,” Martin said.
“Oh yeah? Where are we going?” Arthur asked.
“Dunno,” replied Martin. “But I’m sure it will be brilliant.”