This, my first ever real Cabin Pressure story (this doesn’t really count although I’m claiming it for the same universe) is dedicated to @artbylexie for inspiring it (from an email exchange earlier today): I’ll bet she likes how small and cozy Martin’s flat is (“Cozy?” Martin asked looking around at the 500 square feet studio flat. “No one’s ever called it cozy before.”) and she would rather stay there than any fancy hotel.(I HAVE A LOT OF MARTIN/THERESA FEELINGS TODAY)


The first time he brings her to his flat he’s nervous, so very very VERY nervous. It’s an attic. It’s 500 square feet of slant-roofed, flat-white-painted, mostly second-hand-furniture- cluttered nothing. And he’s bringing a woman to it - a woman! - who lives in a castle. A castle. What’s he thinking? He must have gone mental, bringing Princess Theresa Gustava Bonaventure of Liechtenstein here, to his tiny little nothing of a flat. Even though she knows the truth about his non-paying job at MJN, and that he makes his real living with a van (a van!)…knowing something and being forced to confront the reality of it are two entirely different things.

He opens the door and steps inside, squishing himself against the wall to give her room to enter. “So, um, this is it.” He laughs, a high, nervous laugh, incredibly uncomfortable with the whole situation, mentally kicking himself for agreeing to bring her here after their third date. Oh, the date itself went well - Croydon Airport’s Visitors Center is top of the line and she seemed to enjoy it - but now they’re ending the date here in his tiny little miserable splotch of a flat and she’s…

Oh. Actually she’s looking around with a smile on her lips. Not a forced smile, not a condescending, oh-my-isn’t-this-quaint kind of smile, but one of her lovely bright real smiles. The ones that make his toes curl and his heart pound like an overworked jet engine. A General Electric GE90, not some piddling little TJ100 Turbojet engine. She turns that smile on him and he dares to find it…approving? “It’s lovely, Martin. So cozy!”

“Cozy?” he echoes, brow scrunching in confusion. He darts a quick look around to make sure nothing’s changed in the thirty seconds or so that have passed since she stepped inside. “No one’s ever called it ‘cozy’ before.” He feels a flush forming on his face - God he hates how red he gets when he’s embarrassed but there’s nothing he can do about it - and blurts out, “Not that I’ve ever brought anyone here before. I mean, well, yes, my Mum and my sister came to help me move in, Simon was too busy of course but that’s Simon for you, never around when there’s actual work to be done and Douglas and Arthur have been here, they helped me back up the stairs after we delivered that piano and I…”

She stops his unstoppable stream of nervous babbling in the most wonderful way possible: she steps over to him, takes his hand in hers, and leans down (just slightly down, she’s only ten centimeters taller than he is when she’s wearing flats like she is today) and kisses him.

It’s their first kiss. He’s wanted to kiss her ever since she saved him from Carolyn’s wrath over the whole fuel misunderstanding, but he hasn’t quite been able to nerve himself up for it. He’s grateful to her for being the one to kiss him, in fact. So grateful that he goes a bit numb, his mind fizzing into nothingness, and it takes him a few seconds to start kissing her back. But she doesn’t pull away, so she understands and doesn’t think he didn’t want her to kiss him. Because God knows he wants her to kiss him! So he finally gets his brain and body coordinated enough to kiss her back and she lets him and it’s just…it’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect.

When she finally ends the kiss he opens his eyes (oh, he closed them, when did he do that?) and sees her smiling at him again. She’s still holding his hand, and she reaches up with the other and cups his cheek. “It’s lovely Martin, your flat. And I just want you to know that I would rather stay here than any fancy hotel. Maybe the next time I’m in Fitton? Maxi has a concert in six weeks. Would it be all right if I stayed here?”

Once again he’s grateful to her for taking the lead, because of course this is their third date and he knows the old rule about third dates, even if he’s never personally experienced, well, THAT. Not on a third date. Not at all with his first girlfriend, not for six months with his second, and only the one time with his third (rather disastrous) relationship. But Theresa’s reassuring him by letting him know that she’s interested in…THAT…with him, but isn’t expecting anything this time around. Which is good because he doesn’t have any of the necessities on hand (note to self: buy condoms) and he hasn’t had time to fix things up in any kind of romantic manner, which he absolutely will do. Candles, flowers, maybe spring for a fancy set of sheets and a new duvet cover…

“Martin. Breathe,” Theresa advises him with another small smile, and he gulps in some air.

“Sorry,” he says weakly. Then he does probably the bravest thing he’s ever done in his life: he leans forward and kisses her. And she tastes lovely and feels lovely and his free hand slips around her waist and she’s kissing him back and he knows - absolutely, positively knows - that he’s in love with the most perfect woman on the face of the earth.

He doesn’t tell her that, however, until their ninth date, which is still in the future. All he does now is tell her yes, of course she can stay here in six weeks (six weeks isn’t long enough and it’s too long at the same time) and offer to show her around the 500 square feet of cozy flat he now surveys with pride. It ends with him making her a cup of coffee on his one truly expensive splurge - a Keurig coffee maker. He’s pleased that he can offer her a variety of flavors and proudly shows off the device with an enthusiasm normally reserved for all things aeronautical. She’s suitably impressed, selects a blueberry coffee for herself while he has hazelnut, and they spend the evening talking about so many things he can’t even remember them all. He walks her back to her rental car when it’s close to midnight, and has the courage to be the one to initiate the good-night kiss. He knows he’ll never taste blueberries or coffee again without thinking of her, and watches in a daze as she drives off.

Six weeks, he thinks to himself, knowing he’s grinning like an idiot, feeling the tips of his ears turning red at the thought.

For the first time in his life, Martin Crieff finds himself looking forward to something even more than flying…and he’s never been happier.

The box in Martin’s jacket pocket seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, sitting there like a lead weight and dragging his attention away from the important matter at hand. He didn’t think that he’d ever been more nervous for a dinner in his entire life, barring perhaps the first dinner he’d had with Theresa when he’d been so anxious that he would commit some horrendous breach in etiquette and bring shame down on his entire family. It had been a very near thing actually, especially when he’d come within a hair’s breadth of spilling the bottle of red wine all over the table and himself, but he’d managed to get through that dinner without any international incidents and even managed to get a second and third date afterwards. 

This date was slightly more intimidating however. This was, after all, the one month anniversary of their first date together to the Air Museum, and even if it was something of a silly thing to celebrate Martin still wanted to get it right. Especially considering what he had planned with the small red box that was currently pressing into his side and sending his pulse up through the roof every time he thought about it. Would she like it? Would she think it was too weird? Was he making a huge mistake?

There was no turning back now though, not after he had gone through all the trouble of arranging this date and procuring the present in question. Honestly, getting Theresa to Fitton had been the easiest part of the whole ordeal thanks to His Royal Highness getting into a tiff with the Sheikh of Qatar on the playground and needing a family member present for a teacher conference, something that Martin tried not to think about too much so that his brain didn’t start hurting from the absurdity of it all. Perhaps even more absurd was the fact that he was currently sitting with the Crown Princess of a foreign nation in a tiny pub in Fitton, in spite of his many protestations that something like an anniversary required white tablecloths at the very least. But Theresa had put her foot down, insisting that she got quite enough of white tablecloths and stuff dining at home, and so here they were tucked away in a dark little corner of the local pub, sharing pints of ale and a plate of chips while arguing the finer points of war-era aircraft. It was absurd. And perfect.

As the night wore on Martin grew steadily more nervous about his present and several times even came close to backing out of the whole thing entirely, but the buzz of alcohol through his veins and the happy smiles that Theresa kept sending him gave him a courage that he had not previously known he possessed. At last, when a natural pause came in the conversation and they shared a brief but comfortable silence, he knew that it was time. It was now, or never.

Reaching into his pocket, he fumbled the red box out of his jacket while clearing his throat slightly. “Now Theresa as you know, this is a very important and momentous occasion, one that should be celebrated as such.”

Theresa’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and curiosity, a slight smile playing over her face as she leaned back in her seat. “Oh, is it now? I wasn’t aware that dinner at the pub was considered a momentous occasion here in England.”

“Don’t be silly, you know what I mean. It’s, well, it’s been a month. Since we started dating. It’s our anniversary.” Theresa remained silent, that small smile of amusement she always seemed to wear around him still on her face, and Martin felt his cheeks flush slightly as he plunged forward. “Anyway I wanted to get something to mark the occasion, something that uh, befitted the standing of the parties involved and the, er, gravity of it all. So I, well, I got you this.”

Face burning red by now, he thrust the box towards her over the table and held his breath as she opened it with a puzzled look on her face. A moment that seemed to last a lifetime passed in silence as she examined the contents of the box, not saying anything at all and sending Martin’s pulse pounding through the roof. Words came spilling out of him all at once, nerves and anticipation and the need to be understood exploding together.

“It’s a medal, the Medal of Exceptional Courage and Valor. It’s bestowed on those who have shown tremendous patience and kindness, in this case for honoring this humble captain with your presence and surviving a relationship with him for a whole month. I thought, well, since you gave me so many medals when we first met, it’s about time that I start repaying you the favor. It’s not as official as the ones you gave me I know, but I had it made special -”

“I love it.” Theresa cut him off with a smile, reaching across the table to grab his hand and sending a burst of warmth shooting through him. “I really love it, thank you Martin. I’m honored that a Captain like yourself would give me such a wonderful thing.”

Giving his hand a final squeeze, she pulled the small silver medal out of its box and pinned it to her blouse with a smile. It gleamed fitfully in the low lighting of the pub, the words engraved there glinting in the candlelight and warming Martin through. It had been a gamble, getting her something so silly and yet so personal for a one month anniversary, but going by the enormous smile on Theresa’s face it seemed that for once in Martin’s life his gamble had payed off. 

To Fall in Love (Perchance)

The Taj Mahal glittered in the moonlight, lit by a thousand dancing lights and innumerable stars. If it was beautiful in the daytime, standing sharply out against a clear blue sky as a monument of brilliant marble, it was somehow transformed by the hush of nightfall into something even more magnificent still. The hard lines of stone were softened, muted, blurred by the darkness and the uncertain shimmer of the stars, stars that glinted off the dome and danced in the mirror of the long pool to be reflected back into the wide dark of the sky. It hardly felt real, this star and candle lit wonderland that echoed with laughter and music wafting on the warm night air, so far from the dreary realm of the ordinary as to be another world entirely.

A few short hours ago Martin would not have been able to even imagine this place, this panorama of breathtaking beauty that he had found himself in on a whim and a chance and a laugh. When Theresa had called out of the blue on their layover in Dehli to tell him that he should make it up to Agra as fast as he could with the nicest clothes he had with him, the possibility of ending up here and mingling with people such as these had not even flitted through his mind. Why would he ever assume that he was being invited to the birthday party of the King of Sweden, even if the woman inviting him was royalty herself? This wasn’t the sort of thing that happened to someone like him, not ever, and yet here he was in a borrowed tuxedo holding a glass of champagne he could never hope to purchase for himself, watching the light glimmering and dancing from the Taj Mahal flicker over the face of an actual, honest to goodness princess who was smiling at him with honest to goodness joy.

Keep reading

Martin/Theresa is all kinds of lovely. I cheered Martin on the entire episode. No, really, this is awesome and I’m so happy for Martin.

And I ship Martin/Douglas. Like, really love that pairing. It’s the Cabin Pressure OTP.

BUT while talking to Jordan about it I realised that, in a way, Theresa is like Douglas xD

  • She had a plan to save Martin from Carolyn.
  • She takes pleasure in teasing Martin.
  • She’s interested in aeroplanes and flying (although probably more than Douglas and less than Martin xD).
  • And she manages to completely ignore it when Martin trips over his own words, and gets along with him nevertheless.


Theresa is perfect for Martin. And she is a bit like Douglas.

I love everything about this show.

The Students Meet Theresa

Just a little something I wrote…

Pairing: Martin/Theresa

Rating K+ - T

Summary: The student’s of Parkside Terrace meet Theresa the morning after the date to the Duxford Air Museum.

The students of Parkside Terrace were gathered in Daniel’s room having gathered there after seeing something that had it not been for the others conformation none of them would have believed. Martin had told them that he had a date, and of course they were pleased for him, but they knew the drill after almost three years Martin had only had a handful of dates, but none of them had ever stayed the night, usually they left having been offended by something Martin had said but which they knew he hadn’t meant. They all had early starts this morning, and so Ali and Daniel who were usually the first up came down stairs to see Martin and his date curled up on the sofa fast asleep, once over the initial shock they went back upstairs quietly to wake the others, fearful that if Kate or Lucy saw them they would wake the sleeping pair. “Is there anything in the rule book about what happens if Martin has a date that stays the night?” Ali asked “Let me check” Daniel replied going to retrieve it from his desk draw, it was one of the things they all remembered to put away not wanting to risk Martin discovering it. After a few minutes of going over the rule book with a fine tooth comb they agreed to treat this as any other date of Martin’s. “OK, we better head down stairs, they’ll be awake soon, if not already, and there needs to be someone down there who speaks Martin” said Kate.

The students headed downstairs to find that Martin’s date was in the kitchen, this puzzled them further as clearly she was planning on staying a little while considering that she was baking “Oh, good morning” she said to them as they walked in to the kitchen “Good morning. I’m Daniel, and this is Kate, Lucy and Ali” Daniel said introducing them “Nice to meet you all. I am Princess Theresa of Lichtenstein” she introduced herself. They stood there in stunned silence Martin having a date was one thing, Martin having a date who stayed the night was a miracle. Martin’s date casually announcing that she was a princess whilst baking…Martin chose that moment to walk in “You’re all unusually quiet this morning, have you not had your coffee yet?” He asked them as he walked over to Theresa to kiss her on the cheek, but at the last second she turned her head so it ended up on her lips “Morning” they said to one another with a smile. The students watched in awe as Martin helped Theresa to bake, and her teasing him, which every time she did was met with either Martin wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her, or the two of them kissing.

Clearly this was going better than any of them expected so they gave the nod to do which no other Parkside Terrance student had done, actually get to know Martin’s date rather than running interference. They had been down stairs for half an hour and not once had any of them had to translate anything Martin had said, which was a significant improvement on the previous record of five minutes “So how did you two meet?” Lucy asked, she always had been the nosiest of the four of them. “Martin flew my brother and I to Fitton last week” Theresa replied. “I see” replied Daniel “And are you really a Princess” Lucy asked earning her a ‘you don’t just ask someone something like that’, in turn she gave them a ‘how else am I meant to ask look?’ “Yes I am. I am the Princess of Lichtenstein” she answered with a smile. The students looked at Martin “She really is, I’ve been to her castle and everything” Martin said “Yes, and I saved you from the dragon” Theresa said with a smile “Hmm…indeed you did” Martin replied kissing her again. “Let me get this straight. You are a Princess who likes Martin?” Daniel asked seeking absolute clarity. “That’s right” she replied.  “Sorry about them” Martin said. “Oh it’s alright, I think they just want to make sure you’re happy” Theresa replied. “Yeah it would be nice to see you happy for a change Martin” Kate said “Oh well…umm thank you” Martin said to them. At that point Theresa whispered something in his ear which caused him to go bright red laughing she pulled him out of the kitchen, and upstairs. Once they were sure the two of them were out of earshot they again had to confirm what they had just seen with one another, after finally agreeing that it did they grabbed something to eat on the way in as they were all now running late, they left a note for Martin on the work top and walked out the door. “So…” Lucy said as she joined the others at the front gate “When do we start planning the wedding?”

Observant - Team Bobsled/Sherlolly

I was always under the impression that Theresa is a bit younger than Martin, so read this as Martin being around 37, and Theresa being 33-34.

Arthur is really good with kids because he basically is one


  Martin stands on the patio, surveying the party. His garden is filled with friends and family - both his and Theresa’s – and everyone seems to be enjoying the rare sunny weather. He can’t help but laugh to himself when he spots Arthur sitting cross-legged on the grass, surrounded by a semi-circle of children as he animatedly explains the time they ‘flew over the polar bears’. Apparently he’s giving it a bit of embellishment, judging by the rather loud roar he’s just let out.

  Douglas and Herc are deep in conversation with Mycroft, who seems to be toning down his usual air of grandeur in an attempt to fit in; he’s even left his PA at home. Martin’s mum and Carolyn are over in the corner of the garden, laughing at a stack of his baby photos, which Wendy seems to have produced from nowhere. He’s just wondering where his wife has gone when a pair of thin arms wrap around his middle.

  “Sherlock and Molly are here.” Theresa murmurs in his ear, nuzzling her nose slightly into the back of his neck. He turns his head to meet her eyes, and is greeted with the sight of the other Holmes brother and his family entering the garden, waiting to say hello. Martin grins; Sherlock has been forced to leave his infamous coat at home, looking slightly odd in just a white shirt and dark grey trousers, carrying little Milo on his back. Molly looks radiant with her pale yellow sundress covering her baby bump – he’s heard people say before that pregnancy suits her.

  “Happy birthday, Martin!” she says, holding her arms out for a hug, and Martin goes to her willingly. He’d always liked Molly, even taking her out on a date or two before realising the extent of her feelings for Sherlock. She’d insisted that he be the godfather for the new baby, and he had been only too happy to accept.

  “Thank you,” he lets her go with a grin, winding one arm around Theresa’s waist. He turns to Sherlock, “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble driving all the way up here.”

  “Ever since your friend took it upon himself to teach Milo how to play ‘Yellow Car’, let’s just say that long journeys are an adventure.” Sherlock raises an eyebrow as his son holds up a lemon coloured toy car and squeals “Yellow car!”

“And look at you, Miles – you’re so big! Nearly as tall as me!”

  “That’s not very difficult, is it?” Sherlock mutters, chuckling when he receives a glare from the pilot. “Happy birthday.”

  “Cheers, Sherlock.”


  Later in the day, once Milo has located ‘his Arthur’ and clambered into his lap to share the steward’s slice of birthday cake, Sherlock  pulls up a plastic chair beside Martin and makes himself comfortable. He’s been forced to roll up the sleeves on his expensive shirt, cursing his half-brother for being born in the middle of summer as he grudgingly unbuttons the cuffs and folds them back to expose his pale arms.

  “Why couldn’t you have been born in winter?” he grumbles.

  “I didn’t choose my birthday!”

  “I did.”

  “Wh- you did not!”

  “Perhaps I didn’t, but at least I had the courtesy to be born in January instead of August.”

  Once Sherlock is sure that he looks presentable, he leans back in his chair and watches his son interacting with Arthur. It’s only when he looks over at Martin that he realises the other man is doing the same.

  “You must be so proud of him.” Martin says, somewhat dreamily.

  “What, Arthur? Mm, at least he’s learned to share food now-“

  “You know I’m talking about Milo.”

  Sherlock studies the other man’s face. Something in his expression when he watches his nephew makes the detective pause before he replies.

  “Yes. Very proud.”

  Martin nods, turning his beer bottle absentmindedly between his fingers. His gaze flits over to Theresa and Molly, who are also deep in conversation. As he watches, Molly takes his wife’s hand and gives it a squeeze, and he’s positive that they’re discussing the same subject that has been rolling around in his head for the past few months.

  “Still no success, then?” Sherlock at least has the decency to keep his voice low. Martin shakes his head, flattening his fringe down over his forehead, a tell-tale sign of just how stressed he is.

  “It’s been nearly a year, and nothing.”

  “It’ll happen, Martin.” The detective is trying his best to do the whole ‘reassuring big brother’ thing, but Martin scoffs.

  “That’s easy for you to say! One kid already and another on the way – not all of us have it as good as you do.”

  He’s trying not to feel bitter, he really is; but when he sees Sherlock with his perfect family, and his well-paid job, and his frankly inhuman good looks, he can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

  “Are you forgetting that you’re now a member of the royal family of Liechtenstein?”

  The pilot shoots him a look.

  “I may be married to a princess, but I’m still working as an underpaid pilot in Fitton. The only reason I get paid at all is because my wife owns part of the airline!” he sets his bottle down with far more force than necessary, “And none of this is helping me get her pregnant, is it?”

  “You seem to think that my family is idyllic, yes? But it seems to have escaped your notice that it’s taken four years for Molly to conceive again.”

  “Right, and how long did it take for her to conceive Milo? A few months, six at most? Here I am, nearly 12 months in and I’ve got nothing to show for it. No baby, not even… two pissy little lines on a white stick.” He covers his eyes and lets out a shaky breath.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you, but everything’s always been so easy for you and Mycroft, and I know it’s selfish – but when’s it going to be my turn?”

  Sherlock is briefly stunned into silence; he’s never seen Martin this on edge before, let alone heard him swear.


  Martin lets out a humourless laugh. “I’m fine, really. I think being surrounded by all the kids has got my back up, I’ll be alright later. I feel really bad for acting like a spoiled brat when all you’ve done is come to celebrate my birthday with me. Sorry.”

  “Martin, I think you might want to-“

  “It’s alright, just ignore me. Do you want a drink? Some food?” Martin gets up without waiting for an answer, and starts making his way across the garden. Sherlock watches as he crouches briefly to talk to one of Simon’s little girls, tickling her under the chin and grinning as she giggles. He watches Theresa appear at her husband’s side and whisper something in his ear, but gets distracted by the appearance of Molly. She takes the seat that Martin had vacated, leaning back with one hand on her stomach to get comfortable. Shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand, she mutters,

  “I take it I wasn’t the only one who found it obvious, then.”

  “Of course not. I knew as soon as she opened the front door. Martin’s just a little bit slow on the uptake.”

  “Bless him; I think he’s just about catching up.”

  They locate Martin and Theresa in a secluded corner of the garden, out of earshot of everyone else. The princess is clutching her husband’s hand and talking very fast, while he just looks completely dumbstruck. He blinks hard, asks her something, and her answer nearly causes his eyebrows to fly off his head as he slaps a hand over his mouth. She’s nodding at him, and then they’re both grinning and crying at the same time and Theresa throws her arms around Martin’s neck and kisses him hard. He’s whispering something over and over again, hands tangled in her hair, never breaking eye contact, and it’s obvious to anyone that can see them what he’s saying to her.

  “Thank you.” 


I’m not really sure about the ending, but it’s 1am and I wanted to have it up before I went to sleep and towards the end it sort of went a bit

So it’s gonna have to do for now


Spectrum [Cabin Pressure - Martin/Theresa]

[Listened to this song on repeat while writing this, not much to do with the plot but it definitely inspired the mood of it]


  Martin didn’t know how or when he’d got so lucky. It was practically a law of the universe that any good fortune bypassed him and went immediately to people like Douglas or Herc. Even within his family, he’d somehow ended up being the only one with red hair, while Simon and Caitlin were blessed with thick blonde curls.

  Yet somehow, here he is on the saggy sofa with a princess curled up next to him, legs stretched across his lap.

  At first, he’d been worried that Theresa would turn her nose up at the house he shared with students that were much younger than him, but she’d surprised him once again and embraced the wonderfully normal setting. After a long day at Duxford Air Museum, they’d returned to Martin’s attic and… well. He’d woken up the next morning to find her lying on her stomach next to him in his narrow single bed, with her chin propped up on one fist and the other hand flicking idly through one of his flight manuals. Douglas would never let him live it down if he’d discovered Martin’s reaction was to incite a re-enactment of the previous night’s activities, the book being forgotten soon after it had landed with a thump on the floor, open on the chapter headed ‘Slow Flight, Stalls, and Spins.’

  They’d ended up eating a 5-star breakfast of Shreddies and orange juice, while the students (Eddie, Daniel, Rosie, and Anna) had gawped from the doorway. Martin had felt slightly indignant when Daniel had shouted up the stairs, “Oi, look! Plane boy’s got a girlfriend!” but everything was forgotten when Theresa had grabbed his face in both hands, kissing him soundly. When she pulled back, all four students were frozen in the hall, their expressions stuck somewhere between shock and admiration. The boys had even slapped him on the back and given him possibly the least subtle thumbs up he’d ever seen when they’d left for college.

  Theresa had helped him wash their bowls, despite his protests, and he’d got a great amount of enjoyment from watching the slight sway of her hips as she padded into the communal living room. He silently thanked whatever force had convinced her to pull on his shirt from the previous night over her underwear.

  She’d curled into his side as soon as he’d sat down, stretching her pale legs across his and resting her head on his shoulder. The television was on, showing some inane talk show which seemed to consist of teenagers in tracksuits screaming abuse at each other. Theresa watches for a few minutes, brows slightly furrowed.

  “I don’t think he’s the father.” She finally says. Martin looks down at her in question.

  “Look, he doesn’t have the same eyes as the little boy. The other man does.” Martin looks closer, and sees that she’s completely right. He can’t help but laugh, and she looks up at him with a small smile.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Oh, nothing… nothing. You just- you just reminded me of someone else that I know for a moment.”

  “Really? Is she nice?”

  “W-what? No, no no no, not a woman, a man- oh god, that sounds worse, doesn’t it?”

  Theresa just laughs and pats his chest gently.

  “It’s fine, Martin, I was just teasing. Douglas said you’re good at being teased.”

  She laughs again when his eyes widen briefly before he covers them with one hand. He mutters something that sounds remarkably like “Bloody Douglas” and Theresa shakes her head, tickling his chin with her messy curls. The pilot breathes sigh of relief, dropping the hand that’s over his face and resting it on Theresa’s bare knee. She covers it with her own hand, squeezing gently. Martin laces their fingers together, pressing her knuckles to his lips and returning the smile she’s directing at him.

  “I can’t think that you’re inexperienced with women, certainly not after… Well, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you about last night.” Martin can’t help but blush a tiny bit at the smirk on her face, but his stomach squeezes uncomfortably.

  “Uh, Theresa?”

  She hums in reply, busy inspecting their interlocked fingers. He exhales sharply, ignoring the fluttering in his chest.

  “Are- are you- are you sure about this?”

  “Sure about what?”

  “About- about this. I mean, well, you know… about us.” He doesn’t meet her eyes, instead focusing on her curvaceous legs, running his free hand up and down her shin absentmindedly. He only stops when she reaches forward and takes his face in her hands, gently turning his head so he’s forced to make eye contact. There’s something in her dark brown eyes that makes his heart expand, an emotion that he thinks he knows, but is too scared to put a name to.

  “Martin,” it’s almost a sigh, but she doesn’t look upset or angry with him. “You are a wonderful man. Perhaps I don’t have much experience with relationships, but I’d like to learn. With you. You may not be a prince, but you know how to treat a girl like a princess.”

  “Well, technically you are a princess-“

  “Martin, please,” Theresa laughs, but she’s still looking at him with large eyes that are full of that strange look again, “I would like to be your princess. And I would like you to be my pilot. Do you understand?”

  Martin just stares for a while, realising exactly what she’s asking. After blinking, dumbstruck for a few seconds, he shuts his mouth and nods vigorously, one hand gripping Theresa’s wrist where her palms are still flush with his cheeks, and the other moving to the back of her neck and closing the final few centimetres between their lips.

  When breathing becomes arduous, Martin pulls her closer and buries his face in her dark hair.

  “I don’t really have much experience at this either,” he admits, dropping a final kiss just below her ear.

  “Really?” Theresa seems quite shocked, something that warms the skin of the pilot’s face, “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Quite sure.”

  “Hmm.” Is the only response she supplies for a while, becoming engrossed in tracing the pattern of tiny planes on his pyjama bottoms. She giggles a little bit when he tries to protest that they were a present from Arthur, assuring him that she’s always had a soft spot for men in aeroplane nightclothes.

  “So,” she says, drawing a circle around one navy blue aircraft, “How many girlfriends have you had?”

  Martin flushes again, and doesn’t reply, but Theresa has a feeling she knows the answer already.

  “Oh, Martin. Are there really so many that you’ve lost count?” she teases, holding back a smile and adopting a disapproving expression.

  “I don’t… I don’t suppose you know how many people there are in a bobsled team, do you?”


Seriously, I’ve never shipped anything as fast as this- almost as soon as Theresa was introduced I knew she was going to have something to do with Martin; he wouldn’t have gotten away with being rude to her if something wasn’t going to happen between them. I did a little celebratory dance when Martin got a date with her!

Well, I hope you enjoyed it!



Drawing Martin and Theresa while listening to this song

It just fits so well rgjhshriuh

Except he can literally fly her to all those places tHAT’S THE BEAUTY OF IT