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Feb. 12th, 2012 12:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trace_of_scarletSome people (well... Fi) asked for more Kaidy-Martin fic, and I finished this possible ending to a thread (=story) in work today.
So, here!
Carolyn stared at him, startled. “Martin, where on earth is your –”
“Martin!” The door opened again and a blonde woman in a battered RAF jumpsuit emerged, the offending object in her rather filthy hands. “Red, you forgot your hat.”
“Oh!” Martin’s ears went a delicate shade of pink. “Oh, um, sorry. Thanks.”
“Red?” Douglas sounded incredulous; Martin’s cheeks went as pink as his ears, but the blonde woman ignored the interjection and swept past him in a way Martin instantly vowed to practice every night before bed until it he got it perfect, a resolution forgotten instantly when he noticed how she was smiling at him. He ducked his head instinctively and Kaidy took the opportunity to pop his captain’s hat on his (now rather dirty) curls – leaning up for a kiss as she did so.
Later, once his brain had resumed full functioning, Martin realised that the kiss had lasted barely a second or two, but while it lasted everything felt bright and surreal, as if he was flying again for the first time or as if he had just pulled on his captain’s jacket. Then Kaidy pulled away, grinning, and the thought filtered through the mental static that she had just kissed him, and everyone was watching.
Everyone.
Was.
Watching.
Oh, God.
It should have made things better – at least Douglas would stop teasing him about his complete non-starter of a lovelife now – but all he could think of was how the hell am I going to explain this? He had marks from her fingers on his jaw and neck, he was certain. And on his shirt, and his jacket, and his tie. And he was sure she’d put on a fresh coat of lipstick deliberately, too. And then he realised, with a screech of brakes, that he actually didn’t mind. He’d just been kissed.
“Terribly sorry to interrupt,” Douglas cut in again, a bucket of icy water on the warm, pleasantly fizzy feelings that Martin was beginning to associate with the aftermath of being kissed. “But we do have a debrief to finish, if you can bear to put the captain down for long enough.”
Kaidy executed a perfect military turn to round on him, eyebrow cocked. “That’s ‘sorry to interrupt, ma’am’, thank you.”
“Excuse me?”
She pointed to the stripes on her epaulettes. “Don’t you civilians have ranks –” her eyes lingered on his own stripes, and not appreciatively, “- First officer?”
“Douglas!” Martin was bright red but, to his own surprise, he put his hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, Kaidy. Douglas can be rather ... well, Douglas, I’m afraid.”
“I’d noticed,” Kaidy said curtly, but her lips twitched with a smile when she glanced back at him. “Are you going to introduce us?”
“Oh! Yes, of course.” For some bizarre reason he was suddenly nervous again, but there was something oddly reassuring about her grin and he took a deep, steadying breath. “Right, yes. Kaidy, this is First Officer Douglas Richardson, Carolyn Knapp-Shappey, our CEO, and her son Arthur, who’s our steward. Everyone, this is RAF Group Captain...”
“Katherine Hawkins,” she put in smoothly, having apparently realised at the same second as he did that she’d never given him her full name. “But please, call me Kaidy – everyone does.” She offered Carolyn a thoroughly grubby hand which Carolyn was too nonplussed not to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Are you really in the RAF?” Arthur demanded, beaming at her excitably. “That’s brilliant!”
Martin winced pre-emptively, but Kaidy only grinned her bright tomboyish grin. “I am indeed. Got back from –” a millisecond’s pause whilst she worked out the right war for the date – “Afghanistan a few months ago.”
“Wow!”
Douglas opened his mouth again, presumably to give them all full benefit of his thoughts on the RAF and possibly to see if he could compete with Kaidy herself for ownership of the skies’ plummiest accent, but was once more cut off as a curly-haired woman stuck her head through the door Kaidy and Martin had just walked through.
“Bosslady!”
Kaidy’s golden hair flicked as she turned her head, her eyebrows raised. “You rang, Jack?”
“Hate to interrupt,” although something wicked about her expression suggested she really, really didn’t, “But Eden’s throwin’ another strop – not takin’ orders, tantrummin’, the full monty – an’ I need someone to pull rank before I give in t’the urge to smack her upside the head.”
“And you’re up for promotion next month, aren’t you?”
“Yup!”
Kaidy rolled her eyes expressively. “Silly pup’ll get herself shoved in the brig again, if she keeps this up. All right, Jack, I’ll come.”
She gave their little group a rueful smile. “Sorry, folks – duty calls.” She leaned up again to give Martin a peck on the cheek; he felt his ears turn even redder as her lips touched his skin to leave another neat crimson lipstick mark. “Keep misbehavin’, Red,” she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, before pulling away and throwing the rest an impeccably slapdash military salute.
“At ease, soldier,” she grinned, her smirk primarily in Douglas’s direction, and ruffled the hair at the nape of Martin’s neck with her fingertips. “G’bye!”
The door slammed behind her; he could still smell her perfume, faint against the cigarette smoke and the engine oil. He looked at the other three, and they looked back at him.
“So,” he said, tentatively, “Debrief?”
This entry was cross-posted to http://splash-of-blue.dreamwidth.org/166689.html. I'd prefer it if you commented here rather than there, though.
So, here!
Carolyn stared at him, startled. “Martin, where on earth is your –”
“Martin!” The door opened again and a blonde woman in a battered RAF jumpsuit emerged, the offending object in her rather filthy hands. “Red, you forgot your hat.”
“Oh!” Martin’s ears went a delicate shade of pink. “Oh, um, sorry. Thanks.”
“Red?” Douglas sounded incredulous; Martin’s cheeks went as pink as his ears, but the blonde woman ignored the interjection and swept past him in a way Martin instantly vowed to practice every night before bed until it he got it perfect, a resolution forgotten instantly when he noticed how she was smiling at him. He ducked his head instinctively and Kaidy took the opportunity to pop his captain’s hat on his (now rather dirty) curls – leaning up for a kiss as she did so.
Later, once his brain had resumed full functioning, Martin realised that the kiss had lasted barely a second or two, but while it lasted everything felt bright and surreal, as if he was flying again for the first time or as if he had just pulled on his captain’s jacket. Then Kaidy pulled away, grinning, and the thought filtered through the mental static that she had just kissed him, and everyone was watching.
Everyone.
Was.
Watching.
Oh, God.
It should have made things better – at least Douglas would stop teasing him about his complete non-starter of a lovelife now – but all he could think of was how the hell am I going to explain this? He had marks from her fingers on his jaw and neck, he was certain. And on his shirt, and his jacket, and his tie. And he was sure she’d put on a fresh coat of lipstick deliberately, too. And then he realised, with a screech of brakes, that he actually didn’t mind. He’d just been kissed.
“Terribly sorry to interrupt,” Douglas cut in again, a bucket of icy water on the warm, pleasantly fizzy feelings that Martin was beginning to associate with the aftermath of being kissed. “But we do have a debrief to finish, if you can bear to put the captain down for long enough.”
Kaidy executed a perfect military turn to round on him, eyebrow cocked. “That’s ‘sorry to interrupt, ma’am’, thank you.”
“Excuse me?”
She pointed to the stripes on her epaulettes. “Don’t you civilians have ranks –” her eyes lingered on his own stripes, and not appreciatively, “- First officer?”
“Douglas!” Martin was bright red but, to his own surprise, he put his hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, Kaidy. Douglas can be rather ... well, Douglas, I’m afraid.”
“I’d noticed,” Kaidy said curtly, but her lips twitched with a smile when she glanced back at him. “Are you going to introduce us?”
“Oh! Yes, of course.” For some bizarre reason he was suddenly nervous again, but there was something oddly reassuring about her grin and he took a deep, steadying breath. “Right, yes. Kaidy, this is First Officer Douglas Richardson, Carolyn Knapp-Shappey, our CEO, and her son Arthur, who’s our steward. Everyone, this is RAF Group Captain...”
“Katherine Hawkins,” she put in smoothly, having apparently realised at the same second as he did that she’d never given him her full name. “But please, call me Kaidy – everyone does.” She offered Carolyn a thoroughly grubby hand which Carolyn was too nonplussed not to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Are you really in the RAF?” Arthur demanded, beaming at her excitably. “That’s brilliant!”
Martin winced pre-emptively, but Kaidy only grinned her bright tomboyish grin. “I am indeed. Got back from –” a millisecond’s pause whilst she worked out the right war for the date – “Afghanistan a few months ago.”
“Wow!”
Douglas opened his mouth again, presumably to give them all full benefit of his thoughts on the RAF and possibly to see if he could compete with Kaidy herself for ownership of the skies’ plummiest accent, but was once more cut off as a curly-haired woman stuck her head through the door Kaidy and Martin had just walked through.
“Bosslady!”
Kaidy’s golden hair flicked as she turned her head, her eyebrows raised. “You rang, Jack?”
“Hate to interrupt,” although something wicked about her expression suggested she really, really didn’t, “But Eden’s throwin’ another strop – not takin’ orders, tantrummin’, the full monty – an’ I need someone to pull rank before I give in t’the urge to smack her upside the head.”
“And you’re up for promotion next month, aren’t you?”
“Yup!”
Kaidy rolled her eyes expressively. “Silly pup’ll get herself shoved in the brig again, if she keeps this up. All right, Jack, I’ll come.”
She gave their little group a rueful smile. “Sorry, folks – duty calls.” She leaned up again to give Martin a peck on the cheek; he felt his ears turn even redder as her lips touched his skin to leave another neat crimson lipstick mark. “Keep misbehavin’, Red,” she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, before pulling away and throwing the rest an impeccably slapdash military salute.
“At ease, soldier,” she grinned, her smirk primarily in Douglas’s direction, and ruffled the hair at the nape of Martin’s neck with her fingertips. “G’bye!”
The door slammed behind her; he could still smell her perfume, faint against the cigarette smoke and the engine oil. He looked at the other three, and they looked back at him.
“So,” he said, tentatively, “Debrief?”
This entry was cross-posted to http://splash-of-blue.dreamwidth.org/166689.html. I'd prefer it if you commented here rather than there, though.
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Date: 2012-02-12 12:57 pm (UTC)I have no words right now because they are all squeeeeee!
We really need to get to the end of this thread. So hard.