This story was written as a WFCTGIO Secret Santa for Jenn123, who is a mahoosive Green Day fan.
Hidden in the story are 62 Green Day song titles - can you find them all? The full list is in Chapter 2.

'Come on Sy. It's as easy as... I dunno... uno, dos, tre.'

'Not that easy if you don't speak Spanish, then. Besides, I don't care how easy it is. I'm not doing it.'

'Come on Sy. Don't leave me to do all this all by myself. Do you have no pride in our home at all?'

'Christian, turn off the tap, put down the tea towel and walk away. There is no point cleaning while the ankle biters are still here making everything sticky.'

'I am not having your mother come round and find the place in this state - kids or no kids. I'll never hear the end of it.'

'Christian, you have nothing to prove to my mother. Not any more. I know you don't believe me, but she really is OK with me, with us, with everything. She will not start hating you again because there is a dirty teacup in the sink.'

'Sy, your mother may be on the road to acceptance, but she's still 2,000 light years away from arriving. I'm not giving her any opportunity to say I'm not looking after you properly. One step out of line and she'll be all "I knew that man was never good enough for my Pappoo".'

Syed couldn't help chuckling at Christian's eerily accurate impression of his mother. And, despite his protests, Christian pulled off the rubber gloves and threw himself down on the floor in front of the sofa, resting his cheek on Syed's thigh. Syed's hand moved subconsciously to Christian's scalp, moving his fingers tenderly through the short hair while Yasmin sat on the carpet in front of them, furiously hammering large, colourful, plastic pegs into different shaped holes.

Christian gazed at her adoringly. 'We have a beautiful daughter', he sighed.

'We certainly do.' They sat there peacefully, their serene expressions a stark contrast to Yasmin's look of fierce determination as she wielded the mallet with full force.

Suddenly a loud, tinny rendition of the Birdie Song startled them out of their happy reverie. Syed rolled his eyes at the ring tone as Christian pulled out his mobile and glanced at the screen. He groaned.

'It's that guy from the gym in Greenwich. I'd better take it. They're probably rescheduling everything - again.'

He stood up and headed wearily to the bedroom to get his diary. 'Hi Brad. Great to hear from you. Everything still OK for next week?'

As the bedroom door swung closed, Syed saw that Yasmin had completed her task and was looking inquisitively around to see what else she could examine with the hammer. He quickly popped all the plastic shapes out of the holes so she could start again, ignoring her look of contempt at his willful destruction of her masterpiece. Syed then snapped on the rubber gloves and finished the washing up. Christian was right. If the flat wasn't spotless when his mother arrived they would never hear the end of it.

Ten minutes later Syed had just slumped back down on the sofa when Christian came storming out of the bedroom.

'Those dirty, rotten bastards! Particularly that Brad guy. He's a jackass, an American idiot, and I'm a complete chump for letting him get away with it. He's had so much plastic surgery on his face he might as well have a prosthetic head yet he has the temerity to question me about my training methods. I swear next time he suggests changing the programme I'm going to...'

'Christian! Not in front of the children.'

A glance down at three pairs of wide, concerned eyes and Christian's inferno was quenched. He took a deep breath, put on an enormous fake smile and spoke through gritted teeth. 'See kiddies, everything's fine. Daddy's just dandy. In fact, daddy's delighted. Because that lovely man from the gym has cancelled next week's training course for the THIRD time, daddy has time to take a holiday and get as far away from the lovely man as possible, before he goes round there and tells him what he really thinks of him.'

'Sorry to break this to you, but you're not going anywhere. If the training's been postponed, so has your pay cheque.'

'Sy, pleeeeeease.' whined Christian, 'I need a break.'

'I don't care. We can't afford it.'

'Oh come on Sy. Don't be so uptight. Carpe diem. Let yourself go a little. We can't be that broke. We haven't been away anywhere nice for ages.'

'Poor Christian. Your life is just one long walk along the boulevard of broken dreams, isn't it? God forbid you have to spend any more time at home with your husband and daughter. Who, incidentally, has been a nightmare recently.'

Syed looked despairingly at Amy and Kamil, who were quietly occupying themselves with a game of Kerplunk, colourful plastic sticks scattered all over the carpet. They weren't even trying to poke them into each other.

'They are such sweet children, Christian. Why is Yas such a brat? Is it our fault? Do we indulge her too much?'

Christian sat down next to Syed and lifted his husband's legs up onto his lap. 'She's a rebel. Just like her daddy. And an extraordinary girl. Aren't you Yas?' Christian gazed on her adoringly as she pummeled the plastic shapes wildly.

'She's a spoilt drama queen, and you know it. And which daddy do you mean, exactly?'

'Me, of course.'

'You? A rebel? With your nuclear family, nice flat and steady job. The forces of conservatism must be quaking in their boots.'

'They are. Because I am an oppressed minority and yet I refuse to conform to society's expectations. Despite the common assumption that all gay men should lead debauched, hedonistic lifestyles, I choose to be an upstanding, monogamous family man. Thus rebelling against society's established norms.'

'Hold on a minute. Surely that makes me an even bigger rebel? As a gay, Muslim Asian I'm a minority within a minority within a minority.'

'And that's why I fell for you. Which means I am a minority who is married to a minority within a minority within a minority. And that is why I am the rebel in this relationship.'

Syed's head hurt. Christian's logic was as impenetrable as his mother's. Trying to argue with him was like trying to sculpt with smoke - you just ended up choking and disorientated. The smoke won every time.

'Mind you,' Christian continued wistfully, 'despite my naturally rebellious nature, there has been the odd occasion when I wished I was straight.'

'Oh yeah?' Syed sensed that he was about to be regaled with another chapter from 'Christian Clark: My Colourful Past', and settled back against the cushions to enjoy it. 'Like when?'

'Well, there was this one time, when I was 16.'

'Ahhh. Sweet 16.'

'Well, not so sweet actually.' The naughty glint in Christian's eye blazed brightly as the memory came into focus.

'I used to hang around with this girl. Her parents thought she was a goody-goody, y'know all polite and obedient and church on a Sunday. Her dad was a judge and was always banging on about responsibility and respect and she just nodded and took it. But when the two of us got together, especially if we managed to get our hands on a bottle of vodka, well, you can probably imagine...'

'I don't need to imagine, Christian, I was there. I've seen the train wreck that is you and Roxy after a night out, remember? So, you and the judge's daughter...'

Amanda. Well, this one time, me and Amanda, we were meant to be at the library, doing our homework, but we were actually having a blast watching Sunday league in the park, getting bladdered on alcopops. Anyway, we soon got bored of that and decided to hang out in the local graveyard instead. You know, contemplate the meaning of life, make up stories about the dead people, decide which gravestones we'd have, the usual.'

'Usual for you maybe. Some of us actually did go to the library and do our homework.'

'More fool you then. Well, by the time we got to the churchyard it had started raining, so we thought we'd try and get into the church, keep dry. After a lot of tugging and pushing, we crashed through these massive wooden doors, stumbling all over the place, two pissed teenagers giggling and screeching, just as the vicar was saying 'Dearly beloved...'. We'd only gone and gate crashed some poor sod's wedding. We ended up decorating the antique Armatage Shanks basin in the vestry with various shades of Bacardi Breezer, while the mother of the bride held back Amanda's hair and the best man phoned the police to come and remove us. We certainly made it a day to remember, for all the wrong reasons. I wonder if we made it into the wedding album?'

Syed laughed with an unrestrained joy. He loved Christian's stories. The spontaneity and inhibition were so different from his own sober and controlled upbringing. He was partly shocked, although much less now than he used to be, partly envious and partly full of grateful wonder that the human hurricane that was Christian Clark had chosen to fix his epicentre on him, Syed Masood, still wreaking havoc for all around him, but the two of them calm and safe at the heart of the storm. As Syed wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes, Christian the entertainer continued to perform to his captive and captivated audience.

'I remember thinking at the time, while we were sobering up in the police cell, it was a shame I was gay. We would've made a great couple. She could have been my take-no-prisoners, rock and roll girlfriend and we could have set the world on fire. Probably literally.'

Syed felt a sudden stab of unreasonable jealousy, knowing it was ridiculous, but still blurting out a little too quickly, 'So did you and whatsername keep in touch?'

Christian noted Syed's obvious irritation and loved him for it. 'Nah. She was a bit of a basket case. Turned into a serious shoplifter and it got a bit much, even for me. Besides, I'm glad I'm gay. I think my love life turned out pretty good in the end.'

Two pairs of happy, loving eyes met across the scatter cushions and fingers entwined.

'Yeah, I guess it did.'

The touching moment was shattered by a crash, followed by screams of anguish. Yasmin had just wielded her hammer of destruction on the Kerplunk and Kamil and Amy had not taken it well. Yasmin, however, sat amongst the debris with a smile of mischievous satisfaction.

Zainab and Roxy had been and gone, removing their contented, drowsy children. Yasmin had protested at being put to bed, but a few stories and Christian's unique rendition of 'Paparazzi' had eventually drained her batteries. In the nursery doorway, Christian wrapped his arms around Syed's waist and Syed leant back against the warmth of Christian's chest. They lingered there, swaying gently to the jangling lullaby coming from Yas's windup plastic bluebird and watching her fingers curl around Moosey's stripey antler as she slept.

'What are you thinking?' whispered Christian.

'I was just thinking that, if this was my last night on earth, it'd be OK. Because life really can't get any better than this.'

Christian squeezed even tighter and Syed pressed himself even closer into Christian's body.

'What are you thinking Clarkey?'

'I was just remembering back to when we first started seeing each other. All those times I was missing you, longing for you to stay the night. Waiting for you to choose me, choose us. I never dreamed it would be this good.'

'I know. All the time we wasted. All that energy spent trying to fight it, reject you, be somebody I wasn't. All the misery I caused. But back then, it all felt like too much, too soon.' He turned around in Christian's' arms, cupped Christian's face tenderly and murmured seductively, 'Now I can't get enough.'

They kissed. Long, slow and tender. Lips and tongues following familiar patterns, expressing and savouring their deep contentment. When their mouths parted, their foreheads remained touching, hands gently stroking each other's hair.

'I'm warning you, Syed Masood, keep that up and you'll be stuck with me.'

'No chance. I'm just hitchin' a ride until the next kind, funny, brave, loving and fabulously sexy personal trainer comes along.'

'Yeah, yeah, yeah. And the rest. You are a dominated love slave and you know it. No escape for you.'

Exactly the same look of mischievous satisfaction that Yasmin had displayed earlier was now playing across Syed's face, but for very different reasons. 'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'

Christian felt his pulse quicken in anticipation.

'Handcuffs?'

'Handcuffs.'

'You are a bad, bad man, Syed Masood.'

'Well, nice guys finish last. Which I guess means bad guys come first.'

Christian's mouth dropped open in feigned horror at the innuendo. Then stretched into an enormous grin.

'Well I guess we'd better go test out that theory.'

'I guess we better had.'

There were many things Christian and Syed were grateful for in the wonderful life they shared together. But of all the things that enriched their world, perhaps the one they were most frequently thankful for was that their daughter was a heavy sleeper.

Now go to Chapter 2 to see the list of hidden song titles.