“Arthur?” Martin asks from the other side of the quiet Portakabin. It’s nearly three o’clock on a Wednesday on day four of another indefinite stand-by. Nobody really minds, though, as it’s been entirely too hot to want to do much more than sit around and whinge about how hot it is.
“More water, Skip?” He replies helpfully, still tapping away at his banged up laptop on some website that Martin is absolutely sure he doesn’t want to see.
Martin nods slowly, pushing his glass toward the center of the table without bothering to look up from his reports. “Please?”
“Sure thing!” Arthur’s quick to fetch the pitcher of cold water from the small fridge in Carolyn’s office – his entry and hasty exit met with half-hearted grumbling about bringing heat in with him. “Do you know what today is?” He asks casually, pouring out a glass for each of them.
He sets his pen down and looks up at the steward, “The day that Douglas managed to weasel his way out of stand-by three hours early by lying about a medical appointment?”
“Well… yeah, probably that.” Arthur shifts from one foot to the other, and then closes the distance between them a bit too fast. Martin leans back in his chair, feeling his weight shift uneasily before he’s on his back on the floor – a hard wooden chair pinned underneath him. “Oh no! Are you all right?”
“Fine, fine… yes…” Martin groans, letting Arthur help him up. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting…”
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you…”
“No, no. I’m fine. Just… thank you.” He manages to right the chair he’d been sitting in and collapse back down on it, none the worse for wear.
“I didn’t even get to tell you what day it is.”
“Brilliant guess, Skip!” Arthur grins, placing a flat palm on Martin’s cheek. “But, it’s a very special Wednesday.”
“Sock laundry day?”
“The hottest day in fifteen years?”
“I don’t think so…” Arthur smiles and tilts Martin’s chin up towards him, surprisingly Martin doesn’t flinch this time. “No, guess again?”
“I’d rather not, Arthur. I’ve got quite a bit of work to finish…” It was a lie, but he was never comfortable when Arthur looked at him like that with his mother in such close proximity, presumably near something easy enough to murder him with.
As expected, Arthur gently leans in and kisses his Captain, chaste and proper at first – and then slowly his tongue parts Martin’s thin lips, his body settling onto Martin’s lap. He lets out a small gasp when Martin’s strong arms wrap around his waist and squeeze him tight, suddenly taking control of the kiss.
Arthur breaks the kiss with a stumbling breath and smile as a blush colors his cheeks… he knows Martin will blame it the stifling heat, but he’s blushing too. “Happy International Kissing Day.” He beams proudly, leaning in close. “Care to give it another go?”