basingstoke: crazy eyes (Default)
[personal profile] basingstoke
Title: Coffee With Everything In It.

Fandom: Cabin Pressure.
If you have not heard of Cabin Pressure, follow the link. It is an official Good Time. Do not read the story, because it contains spoilers.

Rating: Saucy.

Pairing: Martin Crieff/Arthur Shappey

Summary: Martin can't keep anything from Douglas. Why does he try?


SETTING: the cabin of a very, very small jet. Piloting the small jet are MARTIN, a young, sweaty man, and DOUGLAS, a middle-aged, bored man. MARTIN is in charge. Nominally.

DOUGLAS: You seem nervy, Martin. What have you done?

MARTIN, too quickly: Nothing!

DOUGLAS: All right.

A pause. MARTIN exhales.


MARTIN: Nothing!


MARTIN sighs.


MARTIN: Stop it!

A door opens. ARTHUR enters. He is a young, cheerful man, and the steward of the jet.

ARTHUR: Here we are, chaps! Coffee! And tea! And me!

MARTIN: No, you're not needed right now! Thank you! Clear the flight deck!

ARTHUR: Aw, did Douglas winkle out the S-E-C-E-C-E-R-E-T?

DOUGLAS: The sececeret? What arcane magic is this?



ARTHUR departs.

DOUGLAS: I understand you have a sececeret. Could that, I wonder, be kin to a secret?

MARTIN says nothing.

DOUGLAS: I don't know why you even try. You know I'll have it eventually. The harder you make me work, the more you'll regret it later.

MARTIN says nothing.

DOUGLAS hums "I've got a feeling / Somebody's watching me..."

MARTIN says nothing.

The intercom buzzer sounds.

ARTHUR: Martin! I found your button!

MARTIN groans.

MARTIN: Thank you, Arthur.

DOUGLAS: I can't help but notice that I fail to notice any missing buttons.

MARTIN says nothing.

DOUGLAS: Where, oh where, can the missing button be? A hidden place? A... sececeret place?

MARTIN, with pain in his voice: Oh, God, I feel like a pedophile!

DOUGLAS: You didn't.

MARTIN: I did, I absolutely did! Oh, God, I should be arrested!

DOUGLAS: You slept with Arthur?

MARTIN: No sleeping! No cuddling! Just taking advantage!

DOUGLAS: You rogered Arthur briskly in the airplane galley?

MARTIN: He offered! I was weak! I couldn't refuse! I'm an awful, awful person!

MARTIN strikes the steering wheel. Alarms sound.

DOUGLAS: Yes, do please remember that I did NOT commit any crimes against the laws of God and man, and therefore do NOT deserve to perish in a fiery blaze.

MARTIN gives a wordless, anguished cry.

DOUGLAS: Although, strictly speaking, Arthur is thirty years old, and you are thirty-three. I'm fairly certain you are legally able to "tap that arse" in any jurisdiction outside Uganda.

The intercom buzzes. On the other end is CAROLYN, ARTHUR's mother and owner of the jet.

CAROLYN: WHAT are you doing up there? Your pudding is in my hair! Arthur's still upside down!

DOUGLAS: Ever so sorry. Slight mental breakdown on the skipper's part. Won't happen again, God willing and the creek don't rise.

MARTIN sniffs audibly.

The door opens. CAROLYN storms through.

CAROLYN: Stop that this instant! I pay you to be boring!

MARTIN: You don't pay me!

DOUGLAS: Hm. That point is now arguable, depending on what airspace we were in at the time.

CAROLYN: What? What?

ARTHUR: What? What's going on?

DOUGLAS: Congratulations, Arthur. Today you are a man.

ARTHUR: Oh, he figured it out! Well done Douglas! Here we are, Martin, soon have that button back on!

MARTIN: Not here! Not now!


ARTHUR: I'm sewing his button, mum! My fault!

DOUGLAS: Yes, excellent idea; do let's brawl on the flight deck of a jet. I'm sure that ocean is very comfy indeed.

MARTIN screams.

CAROLYN: Arthur, DOWN. Martin, CALM. Douglas--carry on.

MARTIN: He's just stabbed a needle into my--

DOUGLAS: Please, young ears.

MARTIN: Thigh!

ARTHUR: Oh. Sorry, Skip.

CAROLYN: Fly! The! Plane! You! Idiots!

DOUGLAS: Singular, that should be, I believe. Unless you expect Arthur to fly.

CAROLYN: Heaven forfend. Well spotted, Douglas. Fly the plane, you idiot.

MARTIN: I apologize for my gauche reaction to being stabbed!

CAROLYN: Now then. What is all this about my beloved son and my... adjectival captain's gerunding trousers?

DOUGLAS: I fear the one has been inserted in the other.


DOUGLAS: I haven't yet pried for details.

CAROLYN: Right. You pry at that one, I'll pry at this one, and we'll never speak of this again. Come, Arthur.

CAROLYN and ARTHUR depart the flight deck.

MARTIN: I'm all right, I'm barely bleeding.

DOUGLAS: Due to Arthur, or... due to Arthur?

MARTIN: Oh, God.

DOUGLAS: That's what he said.

MARTIN: I knew this was going to be awful.

DOUGLAS: I certainly wouldn't let Arthur at my tender flesh.

MARTIN: No, actually, that part was fine.

DOUGLAS: Really?

MARTIN: Have you ever seen Arthur eat a cheesecake?

DOUGLAS: Seen and failed to forget.

MARTIN: Do you remember the enthusiasm? The gusto? The flying drops of cream?

DOUGLAS: Well...

MARTIN: Like that. Only my knob. It was brilliant.

DOUGLAS: Goodness.


DOUGLAS: Makes you think.

MARTIN: I mean, he is thirty years old. We're contemporaries. He's young at heart, but not young of body, and he's not actually mentally deficient.

DOUGLAS: Arguable.

MARTIN: I mean, not from a legal standpoint.

DOUGLAS: You're perfect for each other.

MARTIN: There's no call for that.

DOUGLAS: Or for that. One must respect one's fun time partners.

MARTIN: Must one?

DOUGLAS: If one wishes to meet one's eyes in the mirror, yes.





MARTIN: No. No. No.

DOUGLAS: Yes, yes, yes.


DOUGLAS: Surely that's up to Arthur.


DOUGLAS: A little friendly competition never hurt a love affair. All the movies tell me that it helps.

MARTIN: No! You're the leading man! I'm the squirrelly little tit that gets left at the altar with the police, the stolen diamonds, and the hotel bill!

DOUGLAS: ...Are you?

MARTIN: Don't make me beg.

DOUGLAS: Well, well.

MARTIN: Oh, God. No. Fine. He's all yours. I give up. I absolutely give up.

DOUGLAS: Captain.

MARTIN: No! You win!

DOUGLAS: Don't cry.

MARTIN: I'm not!

DOUGLAS: I didn't know he held the key to your heart, Martin.

MARTIN: I am not crying!

DOUGLAS: Have a good blow.

MARTIN: Get your handkerchief out of my--why do you have a handkerchief?

DOUGLAS: For offering to ladies in distress.

MARTIN: I don't know why I even try.

DOUGLAS: Neither do I.

MARTIN: Anyway, you're married! Happily!

DOUGLAS: I was married. And then Helena left on a whirlwind jaunt through the Middle Kingdom. Now, who can tell?


DOUGLAS: Drops of cream, you said.

MARTIN: Yes. All yours.

DOUGLAS: Come now. Faint heart never won fair Arthur.

MARTIN: No. I can't lose if I don't try.

The door opens.

CAROLYN: Yes, I've heard as much as I care to.

DOUGLAS: As have I.

CAROLYN: There are only so many paeans to Martin's manly physique one can hear before sicking up one's entire digestive tract.


DOUGLAS: Paean: See panegyric.

MARTIN: I know what it means.

DOUGLAS: I very much doubt that.

MARTIN: I just--manly physique? Really?

CAROLYN: Dear God, they're made for each other. Martin, go back there. Douglas, fly.

The door closes.

CAROLYN: If he gets Arthur to move out, I may even pay him a salary.

DOUGLAS: Now, now, don't get carried away. Young love is its own reward.

CAROLYN: Quite right. What was I thinking? Help me get this custard out of my hair.

The intercom buzzes.

ARTHUR: Oh, Skip! Oh, Skip!

MARTIN: Yes, as to my trousers, it might help if I took them off--

CAROLYN and DOUGLAS scream in unison.

ARTHUR: Did you hear something just then?

MARTIN: Yes, you're sitting on the intercom. Come sit on my--

Silence. The jet continues to fly.

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