Hello dear readers- it's been a while since I've posted here. I've missed you. : )

As always, I must start with a disclaimer - everything you recognise belongs to Mr Finnemore, the wonderful and talented.

Now that that's over, I'll let you read before I chatter on.

Chapter One

Once again, the bottle cap landed squarely in the centre of the empty glass. The clink was drowned out by Martin's red-faced, almost hissed exclamation, which made the few heads gathered in the small bar turn towards the source of the noise.

"Yes!" Martin very nearly punched the air in triumph as he swung around on the barstool to face his co-pilot. "You see, Douglas? It's all about patience and precision – the trick is spatial reasoning."

"Of which you have none," Douglas replied, doing nothing to fight the beginnings of a genuine smile as he folded his hands atop the bar. They had been at this for a while now, and the residual weariness of an unpleasantly long flight had begun to dissolve into a more enjoyable fizzle of exhausted contentment.

"Oh, don't be such a sore loser," said Martin, veritable Captain of the sore losers.

Douglas merely scoffed and sat back, sipping his apple juice as an excuse to watch the other man push back his stripes to reveal fairly toned wrists. As Martin reassembled their game, pushing the pieces back an inch, Douglas mused that nobody looking in would know that both of them were stone cold sober. Martin was taking far too much joy in winning for once, and was pink-cheeked and grinning as he counted out an even number of bottle tops, and he wasn't much better himself.

Not that that was a problem, of course. For a man that was, on the surface, arrogant, pernicious, and gratingly prissy, Martin had always been miles ahead of any other pilot in his sportsmanlike attraction to all manner of game. It was what had drawn Douglas to him in the first place in spite of the man's many glaring flaws.

Years into their acquaintance, it was positively charming.

Charm was not something that Martin exuded naturally – or deliberately. It was a sort of side-effect, rather than a conscious effort, Douglas had decided. Now, for instance, it was difficult to take his eyes from his friend as the other man flicked another bottle cap into the furthest glass in a single attempt.

"Your turn," Martin said, practically jittering with smugness as he pushed the glass ever so slightly into Douglas' vicinity.

"You should be glad we didn't set stakes," Douglas remarked as he accepted the caps and rolled the sharp edges between his palms. "If that were the case, I might actually start trying."

With that, he pinged a cap across the bar and was only mildly disappointed to hear it ring against the edge, only to bounce off and roll into Martin's waiting hands. It was worth it to see Martin preening, even if it did make him want to beat him even more.

Let it not be said that Douglas Richardson wasn't patient.

"You're just afraid that I'll wipe the floor with you," Martin replied, swinging slightly on his stool as he laid his arm across the bar as if he considered himself a movie star of sorts. It was ridiculous and yet his grin made Douglas' stomach flip as warmth settled at the base of his throat. "It's different on the bottom of the heap, isn't it, Douglas?"

"Oh, really," Douglas drawled. He straightened out of his slouch. Patience was overrated anyway. "Pass me that." He took the glass and pushed it to the far edge of the bar before catching Martin's eye and fixing him in place. "I bet you the squidgy one in the packet. Each round, we work through the ranks of next flight's cheese tray."

Martin look momentarily worried, forgetting his pride – then he flushed an arrogant red and scoffed, agreeing as he tugged on his tie to loosen the knot.

"Alright, you're on."

From that moment, their peaceful evening away from Carolyn and Arthur in a Caribbean bar reached the same peaks of competitiveness as a small scale war.

It was possible that, occasionally, their sportsmanlike bet got slightly loud. Martin failed tremendously at soothing the barkeep by reassuring him that he was a Captain, and therefore everything was perfectly fine, but Douglas slipped a comforting amount of cash into the man's hand and all was forgotten. Martin pouted, but said not a word as it earned them another hour of undisturbed frivolity.

Douglas won, of course. The alternative was unthinkable.

When they left the bar, Martin grumbling about the unfairness of betting for something that they didn't even have yet but smiling nonetheless, the sky was dark, the moon was high, and their elbows brushed every few minutes. They could have walked faster, but there was no rush to get back to the hotel, even though they were coming dangerously close to their allotted and required hours of rest.

It wasn't quite a date, but it could have been.

Douglas was too old to pretend that he wouldn't have been open to the idea. Martin became more attractive the more he endeared himself to him, and he was companion, best friend, and ally enough that intimacy was the only piece of their relationship that was missing… and it would have been so easy to ask for. It wasn't like Douglas hadn't proposed three times already – the stakes weren't nearly as high now.

Still, Douglas wouldn't ask. Martin was prideful and professional, and even if he didn't assume that a proposition was a joke at first, he would no doubt refuse on the bases that workplace relationships were not CAA approved.

"I'll beat you next time," Martin grumbled, shooting Douglas a sideways glance through te dark that was equal parts petulant and smug. It was charming in a way that made one want to bite their tongue to keep from retorting. "That was just luck in there."

"Oh no, Captain. That was nothing but pure, undiluted skill."

"It wasn't."

"I bet you a fiver it was," Douglas drawled.

"Ah, no, see – you're not tricking me again," Martin replied, raising a finger between them. "Fool me once…"

"Or eight times…"

Martin's elbow connected with Douglas' in a deliberate sway in his direction, and when Douglas turned to him, Martin pressed his lips into a sheepish line and stared up at the sky. He would have been whistling a noncommittal tune had he been a cartoon, scuffing at the floor as he slid his hands in his pockets. It was only a light nudge, but it was enough of a retort that they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

It was a nice night for a stroll, Douglas mused, and they had long passed the days when they had needed to fill the air with babble for the sake of cementing their right to be present. Douglas considered proposing another light round of the rhyming game that they had played on the flight over, but he saw Martin glancing at him from the corner of his eye, suspicious and obviously not intended for him to see, so he decided against it.

Neither of them said a word until they were back in the relative shelter of the hotel. They each had separate rooms this time, courtesy of last minute cancellations in the bargain-bucket travellers' lodge that was the usual haunt of penny saving tourists. Carolyn had been thrilled.

Their rooms were on opposite sides of the hall, so Douglas' back was turned and his hands occupied with finding his key when Martin paused outside of his own room.

"Right, well, I'll see you tomorrow," Douglas remarked. "Sweet dreams, Martin."

"Hmm? Yeah, of course – got to get some rest before the flight," Martin stammered. He did not, however, make any move towards his door. "Um… Douglas?"

"Yes?"

Hands already curled around the doorknob, Douglas turned back to the other man and was surprised to find him shuffling his feet, hands hooked in his pockets as he observed him just as keenly. There was clearly something on his mind.

"Well, ah, i-it's nothing really," Martin said, sheepishly biting his lip as he aimed for a nonchalant shrug and missed completely. "I was just wondering if you were alright. It's just, you've been a bit quiet."

"Me? Quiet?" Douglas drawled… although, in sudden retrospect, he probably had been keeping his mouth shut. He had been enjoying himself enough without needing to create extra entertainment by prodding his friend.

"Well, not quiet, as such, just…" Martin trailed off just as his cheeks flushed red. A hand shot up to rub at the back of his neck. "I-I thought maybe there might be something on your mind, a-and as your friend – y-your Captain – a-actually your friend as well, you know that you can talk to me."

Martin was on his mind, but Douglas wasn't about to tell him that, no matter how much of a romantic he was. Then again, Douglas thought as he measured his expression so as not to seem wrong-footed… the fond look that crossed Martin's face whenever he mocked him for being a 'romantic sod'…

No.

Best not.

"It's nothing, Martin," Douglas assured him, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. "I'm just tired."

Twitching slightly, Martin nodded, brow furrowing. Then he jolted into action and clapped his hands together, wincing at how loud the sound was in the relative hush of the hall.

"G-good. Well – good," he said. "Well then… goodnight."

With that, Martin was gone, scrambling for his key. It took him a while, and he would no doubt continue to struggle, so Douglas took mercy on him and slipped into his own room. He would leave teasing Martin until tomorrow…

Or not.

Depending on Martin's mood in the morning, he might not need to tease him. It was something to look forward to, at least.

Aw, there it is. Chapter One, set loose on the world. It's been so long since I wrote a chapter fic, I'd forgotten how nice it is. At least, I hope it's nice.

This isn't nearly as long as my previous pieces, nor is it going to be.

I'm two terms into my second year of uni now, which is a long way from when I started writing fics, back when I was studying for my A Levels - gosh, it feels like ages. Because of that, I'm writing this whilst commuting to and from campus, and whilst waiting for lectures to start/get interesting. Length aside, hopefully this should be an improvement on my former writing style, or my writing course isn't doing what it should be.

I'm also churning out original novels (nothing sent out yet) and doing essays and things, so while updates will be frequent, they won't be as frequent as I used to be. Every other day might be a stretch.

Now that's all out of the way... I hope you all enjoyed this. Since Zurich time (wow, that's nearly a month ago - wasn't it good? Brilliant in fact?) I've only written pieces of flash fiction, so comments would be lovely if you have any. If not, just sit back and enjoy the anticipation.