His flat was ridiculously quiet. Normally Martin was used to hearing parties going on or even the telly blaring with the noise from a show or some silly video game the students were playing. But now the students had all gone their separate ways to their families for Christmas. The flat shouldn't be this silent.

Inwardly, Martin tricked himself into thinking that this was the reason why he's making so much noise in the flat now; that the silence was getting to him, that he misses the kids. It's not because he doesn't really know the exact layout of his own home. It's embarrassing that he's lived here for the better part of a decade and doesn't know where the thyme's kept, or where to plug in his iPod to listen to some Christmas music. This was what he got for being antisocial wasn't it? Trudging up those stairs, grabbing a burnt piece of toast that someone had put aside as useless and logging in hours of Windows flight simulator.

Martin swiftly opened the oven door and put the turkey in. He hurriedly set the alarm on his watch to the exact minute, and sighed with a contented smile on his face.

He looked around the flat, admiring his handiwork. There were colorful streamers hanging along the walls, a small tree in the corner that was begging to be decorated, stockings taped under the TV stand… Arthur was going to love Christmas this year.

He and Arthur had been in a relationship for the past few months, since not long after the fiasco at St. Petersburg. They'd been stable, happy. Gone out on dates and celebrated events together. Everything was brilliant, really. This was first relationship in Martin's life that hadn't gone belly-up within the first month.

Except now it was Christmas, Arthur's favorite holiday (along with a myriad of others including his mother's birthday and Lent). The previous year Martin had gone out of his way so Arthur would have a special Christmas; and they hadn't been dating then. This year had to be spectacular.

Martin made a mental checklist. Okay, turkey in the oven, decorations up, presents wrapped. He hadn't missed a thing. Perfect. Martin Crieff was in control.

He had a couple hours to kill before Arthur was supposed to arrive. Martin looked through his section of the DVDs in the cupboard. They were all movies about aeroplanes. Not very holiday spirited at all. Some of the other housemates did have Christmas films that they'd left behind, but since Martin wasn't too sure if the DVDs were communal he didn't want to touch them. Begrudgingly, he popped in one of his films and stretched out on the sofa.

For some reason the movie wasn't capturing his interest as it usually did. His eyes began to droop around the time Freeman asked what the big delay was; great timing, Martin thought as he yawned. A little nap wouldn't do him any harm. He fully relaxed his body and drifted off to sleep just as Freeman had a massive heart attack.

Martin was jarred awake from a very nice dream about aeroplanes and Arthur by obsessive loud knocking at the front door accompanied by someone shouting and a horrid smell of… Oh God no.

"Skip!" Arthur shouted from outside. "Are you okay? It smells really bad out here so it must be worse in there. Why aren't you answering me?" Arthur seemed desperate.

Martin ignored his lover's pleas. The flat was beginning to fill with smoke. He coughed and put his shirt over his nose and mouth as he rushed to the nearby fire extinguisher.

"Skip, please answer me if you're not dead!" There was a quick pause. "And if you are dead you might want to dial 999!"

He took a deep breath before he opened the oven door. There it was, his turkey he'd worked so hard on was on fire. Burning very nicely he might add. Sadly, he aimed the nozzle of the fire extinguisher at the base of the flame and pulled the trigger. A white mist appeared and within moments the fire was gone. So were his dreams of a perfect Christmas dinner.

"Martin, I'm coming in!" Arthur yelled from outside. "I'm breaking down the door!"

Quickly, Martin comprehended what Arthur said and rushed to the door, opening it in time for Arthur to come barreling inside to collide with the sofa. Before Martin could open his mouth to say anything Arthur whirled on him, grabbed him roughly and pulled him outside to safety.

They were halfway down the street before Martin could get a word in. "Arthur! Arthur! Let me go! I'm fine!"

Arthur took his time to inspect his lover. Once he was satisfied that Martin was okay, the serious expression left Arthur's face and was replaced by his broad goofy grin. "Well, so you are!" He wrapped his arms around Martin's neck and gave him a big sloppy kiss, not caring one bit that they were in public. "What happened, Skip? You really worried me back there." His eyes were a little glassy as he spoke.

Martin quivered as they sat on the kerb, and launched into the story of how he'd ruined Christmas.

Arthur interrupted suddenly after Martin had got to the point in the story where he'd woken up, "What film were you watching?

Martin blinked back some tears, taken aback. "A- A- Airport 1975."

"Not Airplane!!" Arthur gasped in horror, putting his hand over his heart dramatically.

Martin was stunned. Was Arthur really hitting on this point? "N—N- No. They're like the same thing anyway. Airplane! was largely a parody of Airport 1975."

"Oh no," Arthur countered. "Airplane!'s much better!"

"That's not the point!" Martin took a deep breath. "When I woke up I found out that I had slept too long and literally burned the turkey. Our Christmas is ruined thanks to me."

Martin held his breath waiting for his lover's response.

"But why would you watch Airport 1975 and not Airplane!?'"

Martin put his head in his hands, completely and utterly frustrated. "It doesn't matter, Arthur! What does matter is that I ruined Christmas. Don't you understand?"

"No, I don't." Arthur wrapped an arm around Martin's frame and with the other lifted his chin. "You can be rather silly, can't you Skip?" He leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on Martin's lips. "You can't ruin Christmas. You make it special just by wanting to celebrate it with me."

Martin smiled tightly and let himself be supported by Arthur's reassuring touch. "What do you propose we do now?"

"Well," Arthur's voice was light. "Chinese takeaway, I say. They're always open. We can go back to your flat, clean up and we can watch a proper aeroplane film. "

Martin leaned over and kissed his lover's cheek. "That sounds perfect."