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1.
“Douglas!”
“What?” Douglas appeared in the hallway.
“Your towel. It’s on the floor – again.” Martin brandished the offending object at his partner.
Douglas’ eyebrows quirked. “So? I forgot to hang it up after my bath.” He grinned infuriatingly at the captain. “I was going to go back to it.”
“Yeah, right,” Martin huffed. “If it were up to you, it’d still be lying sodden on the floor tomorrow morning.”
“It should be up to me,” Douglas batted back, initial amusement twitching closer to genuine annoyance. “It’s my bathroom too.”
Martin threw his hands up, and stomped off to his shower.
2.
“Martin!”
Martin looked up from shoveling his food down – a habit he’d never quite broken from his attic days. “Hmm?”
Douglas was looking red in the face. He reached desperately for his water and gulped it before continuing. “How much chilli did you put in this, for goodness’ sake?”
Martin frowned. “Not much.”
The first officer growled. “You know I don’t like things too spicy.”
Martin felt a flare of irritation run through him. “The dish is called chilli con carne for a reason, you know.”
“Don’t I just.” Douglas glared, and pointedly fanned his mouth before abandoning the plate.
3.
“Douglas!”
Douglas looked up, face all innocence. “Yes, love?”
“It’s 2.30 in the morning!”
“And?”
“You’re playing the piano!” Martin crossed his arms and tried to convey authoritative indignation – not the easiest trick to pull off in a threadbare dressing gown that left a sizeable amount of thigh visible where it cut off above the knee.
“I’m playing quietly.” Douglas sighed grumpily. “I can’t sleep.”
Martin fumed. “Thanks to you, neither can I.”
“Sorry.” Douglas’ apology was hardly effusive; he ran a distracted hand through his hair and frowned. “I’ll keep it down next time.”
“Do.” Martin turned and left.
4.
“Martin!”
“Douglas?” Martin wandered into the bedroom.
“Where’s my book?” Douglas turned, face like thunder, to stare at the captain. “Why has it been replaced with –“ he waggled the file in the air – “the sodding ops manual?!”
Martin grinned. “I just thought, after that landing, that you’d like to review certain procedures.”
Douglas glared. “My procedural knowledge is just fine, after thirty years of experience.” He threw the tome at Martin, who caught it, chuckling. “Where’s my Tom Clancy?”
“In the laundry basket.” Douglas stormed over to it. Martin risked a parting shot. “Not like you ever look there.”
5.
“Douglas!”
“Yes?” Douglas poked his head round the kitchen door.
“You’ve left the washing up, again!” Martin put his hands on his hips.
Douglas crossed to him. “I hadn’t forgotten.”
Martin poked at a saucepan. “But it’ll get all dried on if it’s not done.”
“I will do it, darling –“ Douglas took Martin’s hand – “but just now, I thought I’d like you to laze on the sofa with me.”
“Did you?” Martin’s face was still stern, but he allowed himself to be drawn into the lounge. “And who’s going to soak the dishes?”
Douglas distracted him with a kiss.
+1.
“Carolyn!” the two pilots chorused in perfect unison.
“Gentlemen?” Carolyn emerged from the office. “Do I detect a note of annoyance in those dulcet tones?”
“Yes.” Douglas gestured at the wallchart. “The 15th.”
“What about it?”
“We’d booked it off,” Martin glared. “And now there appears to be a flight scheduled that day.”
Carolyn shrugged. “I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding it. “But needs must.”
“But, but –“ Martin spluttered.
“It’s our anniversary,” Douglas glowered.
Carolyn looked faintly guilty, but swanned out, calling “You’ll still be together, won’t you?”
Martin and Douglas exchanged grumpy glances, and as one, muttered “Damn.”