Tell me more, tell me more!
Apr. 16th, 2012 04:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
solrosanNotes: X-over with Cabin Pressure and my Short Message Service-series. Follows Ash cloud over Europe where not!Anthea meets the Captain of MJN Air at Frankfurt Airport. Betaed by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zedille.
I want all of you to hum Summer Nights when reading ;)
Summary: not!Anthea is more generous with the details than desired while Captain Crieff tries to not kiss and tell (even though he wants to).
-x-
Did you have
fun last night?
SH
He passed the time.
I’m sure he’d
be delighted by
that evaluation.
SH
Oh, hush. He was
sweet. Almost
knew what he was
doing.
I don’t need details.
SH
Good, because
you're not getting
any.
Hm. Interesting.
SH
What’s interesting?
You’re always
eager to share the
details of everyone
else’s sex life.
SH
Don’t tell anyone,
but I make up most
of those details.
You don’t say?
SH
Shocking, isn’t it?
Outrageous!
SH
Don’t worry, I’m
getting punished
as we text.
That’s good to
hear. How?
SH
I’m on a crowded
train headed for
Paris. Your brother
is not entirely pleased
I stayed the night.
Because of you staying,
or your activities?
SH
My not being in
London this morning.
He’s not briefed
about how I decided
to spend my time.
I commend your
decision to keep
Mycroft out of your
sex life.
SH
I’m sure he feels
the same way.
Seeing him again?
SH
Your brother?
The airline pilot.
Don’t play stupid.
It doesn’t suit you.
SH
Thank you, I think.
Why do you want
to know? Jealous?
Of course not. I
just want to know
if I need to do a
background check
on him or not.
SH
That’s sweet, and
offensive, at the
same time -- not
to mention
unnecessary. I
have better
sources for that
than you do.
Is that a challenge?
SH
Sure, if you’re bored.
Actually, not today.
SH
Really? Shocking.
I have hobbies.
SH
How’s the exploding
umbrella coming along?
Still in very early
development.
SH
You’ve been working
on it for more than
five years.
It’s a very
complicated
procedure.
SH
That’s what he said.
What?
SH
Nothing. I’ve
wanted to say
that for ages,
but you never
give me an opening.
I’m not sure I follow.
SH
Of course you
don't. Ask John to
explain it to you.
Sex-related?
SH
A bit.
Then I’m not
going to ask him.
SH
Prude.
I’ve been called
much worse.
SH
Not by me.
You called me
Mycroft once.
SH
Did I? Well, I’m
sure it was called for.
Have fun on
the train.
SH
Don’t sulk.
Sherlock Holmes,
are you twelve?
God, I miss the
pilot. He was a bit
clumsy, but at
least he behaved
like an adult.
He really knew
how to work
that thumb I
showed you.
Please, no details!
SH
Just wanted to see
how long you
could resist replying.
Who’s twelve now?
SH
Still just you.
Have a nice trip,
Madeleine.
SH
Almost in Paris, I
think I’ll survive.
Tell Mycroft hello
from me.
SH
Really?
No.
SH
-x-
“O Captain, my Captain,” Douglas singsonged, as Martin entered GERTI sometime around noon. “You look like you’ve missed a good night’s sleep and couldn’t be happier about it.”
“Oh, shut up, Douglas,” Martin muttered, feeling his ears grow pink. He helped himself to a cup of coffee, “Where are Carolyn and Arthur?”
“One is buying tax-free candy, and the other one is trying to huff and puff away the ash cloud so we can get home. Care to guess who’s doing what?”
Martin ignored the question and made a face as he swallowed the coffee. “This is worse than usual.”
“Take up your complaints with our loyal barista when he returns with his arms full of sweets.” Douglas handed him a tiny package of sugar. “It’s more drinkable if you have sugar with coffee instead of coffee with sugar.”
“So, you all slept on GERTI, then?” Martin looked at the coffee, trying to decide if it was worth drinking for the caffeine.
“Yes, Carolyn wasn’t all that keen of using her money to check us in at a hotel indefinitely.”
“Mm…. I was present at that discussion,” Martin remembered absently, deciding to drink the coffee after pouring in two sachets of sugar.
“Is this where I’m supposed to ask where you didn’t get any sleep? I can do that.” Douglas looked smug. “Where were you last night? Mummy and Daddy were so worried. Well, at least Arthur was.”
“How sweet of Arthur,” Martin mumbled, following Douglas back to the cabin where most of MJN Air had obviously spent the night.
“Yes, he’s rather endearing sometimes.” Douglas moved two blankets off a seat and sat down with a frown. “His extensive questioning about your whereabouts made me think I was going to have to tell him about the birds and the bees.”
Martin remained on his feet and endured Douglas’s expectant look.
“Stop that!” he said after a few minutes. “I’m not going to tell you just because you’re staring at me.”
“Oh, come on! You’re dying to tell me.”
“It’s…none of your business.” Martin pretended not to notice how the pink on his ears had started to spread over his cheeks.
“It isn’t,” Douglas agreed and nodding, “and I can’t imagine your sexual conquests to be the basis of a very interesting story, but I’d be damned if I cared about that. We’re grounded until Iceland decides to pause Ragnarök, so now, please, entertain me. Where did you avoid sleep last night, Captain?”
“Steigenberger, if you have to know.”
“Steigenberger? On your non-existent salary?” Douglas gaped. “Now you have to tell me who she was. Or he. I’m not here to judge.”
“It was a she,” Martin snorted. “And I’m not saying anything else.”
“Yes you are.” Douglas rolled his eyes. “You’ll tell me everything eventually, so why don’t you stop being a prude and give me all the juicy details right now?”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“No.” Martin sat down at the other side of the aisle. “Stop asking me.”
“Don’t be dull, Martin,” Douglas told him. When it became clear that Martin wasn’t going to say anything more, the first officer continued, sighing: “Then I’ll just have to speculate. The young Captain Crieff left his loyal crew and plane last night because he thought someone was making fun of his hat.”
“You were making fun of my hat,” Martin interjected, glaring at him. “And my safety protocols.”
“Not much more than usual. Honestly, Martin, being stuck here is almost as entertaining as getting a tooth pulled. Having to listen to you go through protocol makes it a root canal without anaesthesia.”
Martin snorted.
“Shall I go on?” Douglas smirked. Martin rolled his eyes and looked down at his coffee, unwilling to admit he actually wanted to hear what Douglas would make up.
“Well then, our brave Captain went to one of the watering holes offered by this fine establishment, thinking that, since the end of the world as we know it was eminent, he wouldn’t be flying tonight anyway, so he could unwind with some alcohol.”
Martin realised that he was nodding along in confirmation. He hoped that Douglas hadn’t noticed, but the smug look on his first officer’s face told him otherwise.
“Through the thick cigar smoke that filled the room-“
“Where do you think I went yesterday? A speakeasy in 1920s Chicago?”
“If you want to tell the story, please, go ahead,” Douglas offered. Martin shook his head. “Well then, as I said, through the thick cigar smoke – only out-thickened by the ash cloud keeping us here – our brave, young Captain caught the eye of the Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Andorra.”
“Don’t be absurd! I don’t even think Andorra has a princess,” Martin snorted. “She’s a British government employee.”
“A government employee, you say? Hot!”
“Yes, she was. Very. Now shut up.”
“Oh, never, Martin. How could someone working for our government afford a quick rendezvous at Steigenberger?”
Martin looked at him, finishing the terrible coffee to stall for time. He had actually wondered the same thing last night, though not for very long, as her tongue in his ear had almost rendered him unable to think at all.
“Actually,” he said slowly, recalling the strange details of last night, “now that I think about it, I think she might have been a secret agent.”
“And that would make you what, Plenty O’Toole?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Oh, well, maybe not ‘plenty’ but you brought at least one ‘tool’, right?” Douglas raised his eyebrows.
“What? God! Douglas!”
“Don’t tell me you’re Pussy Galore, Martin.”
“Of course not!” Martin snorted. Still, as he leaned back and absently tapped the armrest, he thought that for the woman last night, he would have gladly been whichever Bond girl she’d wanted. He smiled, shaking his head, happy that Douglas couldn’t read minds.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Martin shook his head again, still smiling. “Do you think Carolyn’s having any luck with the huffing and the puffing?”
“No, but not for lack of trying, I’m sure.”
“We could always suggest a repetition of Douz.”
“Autobahn, at this hour?” Douglas shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“And it might be a bit difficult to get GERTI to swim across the English Channel.”
“True. But let’s not mention this to Carolyn. She might just be desperate enough to try.”
Martin chuckled. “Well, if we’re going to be stuck here another day, then let’s go and get some proper coffee. Or are you on plane-guarding duty?”
“You mean, am I making sure no one steals GERTI and flies her away through an ash cloud that not even real aeroplanes dare face? No. I mostly just stayed around to wait for you to come back.”
“So, coffee?” Martin didn’t really know what to make of the fact that Douglas had been waiting around for him.
“Oh, why not? Maybe even a bagel.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Martin got to his feet.
“After you, Captain.”
As they left the plane, Douglas put his hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Happy as I am about your little adventure last night –believe me, I encourage more of it – next time, take a moment to tell us that you’re not kidnapped or dead in a closet somewhere.”
Martin smiled, embarrassed and a little guilty. “Sorry, I didn’t think….”
“Oh no, don’t be sorry,” Douglas protested, shaking his head to emphasise his point. “Just a mental Post-it for next time.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time,” Martin mumbled.
“I never even thought there was going to be a first time! But look at you.” Douglas nudged him in the shoulder with a smirk. Still embarrassed and blushing again, Martin shoved him back, smiling. Even though Martin knew he was probably going to have to spend more than one night on GERTI, he realised that he was going to remember this as a pleasant experience.
-x-
Next: Laid on a Layover.
zedille.I want all of you to hum Summer Nights when reading ;)
Summary: not!Anthea is more generous with the details than desired while Captain Crieff tries to not kiss and tell (even though he wants to).
-x-
Did you have
fun last night?
SH
He passed the time.
I’m sure he’d
be delighted by
that evaluation.
SH
Oh, hush. He was
sweet. Almost
knew what he was
doing.
I don’t need details.
SH
Good, because
you're not getting
any.
Hm. Interesting.
SH
What’s interesting?
You’re always
eager to share the
details of everyone
else’s sex life.
SH
Don’t tell anyone,
but I make up most
of those details.
You don’t say?
SH
Shocking, isn’t it?
Outrageous!
SH
Don’t worry, I’m
getting punished
as we text.
That’s good to
hear. How?
SH
I’m on a crowded
train headed for
Paris. Your brother
is not entirely pleased
I stayed the night.
Because of you staying,
or your activities?
SH
My not being in
London this morning.
He’s not briefed
about how I decided
to spend my time.
I commend your
decision to keep
Mycroft out of your
sex life.
SH
I’m sure he feels
the same way.
Seeing him again?
SH
Your brother?
The airline pilot.
Don’t play stupid.
It doesn’t suit you.
SH
Thank you, I think.
Why do you want
to know? Jealous?
Of course not. I
just want to know
if I need to do a
background check
on him or not.
SH
That’s sweet, and
offensive, at the
same time -- not
to mention
unnecessary. I
have better
sources for that
than you do.
Is that a challenge?
SH
Sure, if you’re bored.
Actually, not today.
SH
Really? Shocking.
I have hobbies.
SH
How’s the exploding
umbrella coming along?
Still in very early
development.
SH
You’ve been working
on it for more than
five years.
It’s a very
complicated
procedure.
SH
That’s what he said.
What?
SH
Nothing. I’ve
wanted to say
that for ages,
but you never
give me an opening.
I’m not sure I follow.
SH
Of course you
don't. Ask John to
explain it to you.
Sex-related?
SH
A bit.
Then I’m not
going to ask him.
SH
Prude.
I’ve been called
much worse.
SH
Not by me.
You called me
Mycroft once.
SH
Did I? Well, I’m
sure it was called for.
Have fun on
the train.
SH
Don’t sulk.
Sherlock Holmes,
are you twelve?
God, I miss the
pilot. He was a bit
clumsy, but at
least he behaved
like an adult.
He really knew
how to work
that thumb I
showed you.
Please, no details!
SH
Just wanted to see
how long you
could resist replying.
Who’s twelve now?
SH
Still just you.
Have a nice trip,
Madeleine.
SH
Almost in Paris, I
think I’ll survive.
Tell Mycroft hello
from me.
SH
Really?
No.
SH
-x-
“O Captain, my Captain,” Douglas singsonged, as Martin entered GERTI sometime around noon. “You look like you’ve missed a good night’s sleep and couldn’t be happier about it.”
“Oh, shut up, Douglas,” Martin muttered, feeling his ears grow pink. He helped himself to a cup of coffee, “Where are Carolyn and Arthur?”
“One is buying tax-free candy, and the other one is trying to huff and puff away the ash cloud so we can get home. Care to guess who’s doing what?”
Martin ignored the question and made a face as he swallowed the coffee. “This is worse than usual.”
“Take up your complaints with our loyal barista when he returns with his arms full of sweets.” Douglas handed him a tiny package of sugar. “It’s more drinkable if you have sugar with coffee instead of coffee with sugar.”
“So, you all slept on GERTI, then?” Martin looked at the coffee, trying to decide if it was worth drinking for the caffeine.
“Yes, Carolyn wasn’t all that keen of using her money to check us in at a hotel indefinitely.”
“Mm…. I was present at that discussion,” Martin remembered absently, deciding to drink the coffee after pouring in two sachets of sugar.
“Is this where I’m supposed to ask where you didn’t get any sleep? I can do that.” Douglas looked smug. “Where were you last night? Mummy and Daddy were so worried. Well, at least Arthur was.”
“How sweet of Arthur,” Martin mumbled, following Douglas back to the cabin where most of MJN Air had obviously spent the night.
“Yes, he’s rather endearing sometimes.” Douglas moved two blankets off a seat and sat down with a frown. “His extensive questioning about your whereabouts made me think I was going to have to tell him about the birds and the bees.”
Martin remained on his feet and endured Douglas’s expectant look.
“Stop that!” he said after a few minutes. “I’m not going to tell you just because you’re staring at me.”
“Oh, come on! You’re dying to tell me.”
“It’s…none of your business.” Martin pretended not to notice how the pink on his ears had started to spread over his cheeks.
“It isn’t,” Douglas agreed and nodding, “and I can’t imagine your sexual conquests to be the basis of a very interesting story, but I’d be damned if I cared about that. We’re grounded until Iceland decides to pause Ragnarök, so now, please, entertain me. Where did you avoid sleep last night, Captain?”
“Steigenberger, if you have to know.”
“Steigenberger? On your non-existent salary?” Douglas gaped. “Now you have to tell me who she was. Or he. I’m not here to judge.”
“It was a she,” Martin snorted. “And I’m not saying anything else.”
“Yes you are.” Douglas rolled his eyes. “You’ll tell me everything eventually, so why don’t you stop being a prude and give me all the juicy details right now?”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“No.” Martin sat down at the other side of the aisle. “Stop asking me.”
“Don’t be dull, Martin,” Douglas told him. When it became clear that Martin wasn’t going to say anything more, the first officer continued, sighing: “Then I’ll just have to speculate. The young Captain Crieff left his loyal crew and plane last night because he thought someone was making fun of his hat.”
“You were making fun of my hat,” Martin interjected, glaring at him. “And my safety protocols.”
“Not much more than usual. Honestly, Martin, being stuck here is almost as entertaining as getting a tooth pulled. Having to listen to you go through protocol makes it a root canal without anaesthesia.”
Martin snorted.
“Shall I go on?” Douglas smirked. Martin rolled his eyes and looked down at his coffee, unwilling to admit he actually wanted to hear what Douglas would make up.
“Well then, our brave Captain went to one of the watering holes offered by this fine establishment, thinking that, since the end of the world as we know it was eminent, he wouldn’t be flying tonight anyway, so he could unwind with some alcohol.”
Martin realised that he was nodding along in confirmation. He hoped that Douglas hadn’t noticed, but the smug look on his first officer’s face told him otherwise.
“Through the thick cigar smoke that filled the room-“
“Where do you think I went yesterday? A speakeasy in 1920s Chicago?”
“If you want to tell the story, please, go ahead,” Douglas offered. Martin shook his head. “Well then, as I said, through the thick cigar smoke – only out-thickened by the ash cloud keeping us here – our brave, young Captain caught the eye of the Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Andorra.”
“Don’t be absurd! I don’t even think Andorra has a princess,” Martin snorted. “She’s a British government employee.”
“A government employee, you say? Hot!”
“Yes, she was. Very. Now shut up.”
“Oh, never, Martin. How could someone working for our government afford a quick rendezvous at Steigenberger?”
Martin looked at him, finishing the terrible coffee to stall for time. He had actually wondered the same thing last night, though not for very long, as her tongue in his ear had almost rendered him unable to think at all.
“Actually,” he said slowly, recalling the strange details of last night, “now that I think about it, I think she might have been a secret agent.”
“And that would make you what, Plenty O’Toole?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Oh, well, maybe not ‘plenty’ but you brought at least one ‘tool’, right?” Douglas raised his eyebrows.
“What? God! Douglas!”
“Don’t tell me you’re Pussy Galore, Martin.”
“Of course not!” Martin snorted. Still, as he leaned back and absently tapped the armrest, he thought that for the woman last night, he would have gladly been whichever Bond girl she’d wanted. He smiled, shaking his head, happy that Douglas couldn’t read minds.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Martin shook his head again, still smiling. “Do you think Carolyn’s having any luck with the huffing and the puffing?”
“No, but not for lack of trying, I’m sure.”
“We could always suggest a repetition of Douz.”
“Autobahn, at this hour?” Douglas shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“And it might be a bit difficult to get GERTI to swim across the English Channel.”
“True. But let’s not mention this to Carolyn. She might just be desperate enough to try.”
Martin chuckled. “Well, if we’re going to be stuck here another day, then let’s go and get some proper coffee. Or are you on plane-guarding duty?”
“You mean, am I making sure no one steals GERTI and flies her away through an ash cloud that not even real aeroplanes dare face? No. I mostly just stayed around to wait for you to come back.”
“So, coffee?” Martin didn’t really know what to make of the fact that Douglas had been waiting around for him.
“Oh, why not? Maybe even a bagel.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Martin got to his feet.
“After you, Captain.”
As they left the plane, Douglas put his hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Happy as I am about your little adventure last night –believe me, I encourage more of it – next time, take a moment to tell us that you’re not kidnapped or dead in a closet somewhere.”
Martin smiled, embarrassed and a little guilty. “Sorry, I didn’t think….”
“Oh no, don’t be sorry,” Douglas protested, shaking his head to emphasise his point. “Just a mental Post-it for next time.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time,” Martin mumbled.
“I never even thought there was going to be a first time! But look at you.” Douglas nudged him in the shoulder with a smirk. Still embarrassed and blushing again, Martin shoved him back, smiling. Even though Martin knew he was probably going to have to spend more than one night on GERTI, he realised that he was going to remember this as a pleasant experience.
-x-
Next: Laid on a Layover.
