Martin bolted awake, promptly fell off the sofa and hit his forehead on the corner of the bedside table. He moaned as he felt the blood drip down his face from the large gash in his forehead. Martin cursed as he rushed to the kitchen sink (thank God there was no dishes in it) and began to clean the wound.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Who was knocking at the door? It was Christmas Eve for Christ's sake wasn't everyone supposed to be at home with family? Maybe they'd go away…
Knock. Knock. Knock.
It was even louder this time. The incessant pounding was beginning to get to his head, a headache formed in the base of his temple. Great, that was all he needed on top of spending Christmas alone like a loser and having a bloody gash on his forehead. Martin Crieff strikes again… God, he could practically hear Douglas' insults about this.
Knock. Kno-
Jesus, who was here? Not the landlord to collect the rent surely. He'd stopped by last week. It couldn't be one of the students because they'd all gone away to spend Christmas with their families. Oh, maybe that was it. Maybe one of them had forgotten their things? But no, they'd use their keys wouldn't they? It wouldn't be anyone from MJN because Carolyn had graciously given them Christmas and Boxing Day off. Douglas was away spending the holidays with his new girlfriend at the seaside. Carolyn had been invited by Herc to spend Christmas at his house. And Arthur was over at a mate's house. Martin remembered the look in his partner's eyes when he had told him that he'd be spending Christmas alone… Oh God, what if that was it? What if it was someone in need? Like a woman—well anyone really—being chased by a serial killer or rapist and Martin's flat was the first place they'd come upon for help and they were knocking so he'd open the door to save their lives. But he wasn't and now they'd be killed and journalists would ask him why he didn't save them… If only he wasn't bleeding all over the ruddy sink!
"Get dressed you merry gentlemen yet nothing you dismay!"
Or, it could be Arthur.
Martin sighed as he turned off the tap, and pressed a bundle of tea towels against his wound. Whoever's towel this was he was going to have to buy them a new one. "J-Just a minute, Arthur!"
"Okay Skip!" Arthur answered cheerfully. Martin could hear Arthur humming loudly to the tune of 'Get Dressed Ye Merry Gentlemen'.
When Martin opened the door Arthur's face went from pure joy to shear horror. "Skip! You're bleeding! Oh God! Oh God!" He began to dry-heave. "What do we do? What do we do? I can't stand the sight of blood. Not since I was five and I fell off my tricycle at the wrong angle and blood was everywhere I saw my bone sticking out, well Mum says that part didn't happen but I know what I saw. Should we call 999? We should call 999! Oh, maybe we shouldn't because they don't like it when you call them about small things like bleeding. I watched this show on the telly one time where some lady called 999 because McDonalds had run out of McRibs. Can you believe that? But this could be serious, couldn't it Skip? People die from bleeding out all the time. Oh God, oh God…"
Martin soothed Arthur with noises and kisses. "Arthur, relax. It's fine. I'm fine. Come on, let's go inside. It's freezing out here." Martin ushered his partner to sit on the sofa while he bandaged his wound. "Tea?" he asked while he was near the kitchen.
"Yes please!" Arthur answered enthusiastically, back to his old self. "But, oh Skip. I should be doing that, not you."
"You're my guest," Martin replied. He pulled out a kettle from under the sink, filled it with water, and turned on the stove. "Ah, t-this might take a little awhile."
"That's okay!" Arthur beamed. "Tea's always better when you have to wait for it!"
They waited in silence for the tea kettle to shriek. Arthur drummed his fingers on the armrest of the sofa and lightly hummed a Christmas carol. Martin had a death grip on the edge of the counter-top. He still felt a bit light-headed from the blood loss, but really he'd be fine. He felt more anxiety than anything else. Martin had been expecting to have an uneventful evening alone. Instead he'd injured himself and had got a surprise visit from Arthur. Speaking of which…
"Arthur?"
The steward abruptly stopped his humming. "Yeah Skip?"
"Weren't you supposed to be at your mate's… Orwell's?"
"Orson," Arthur corrected. "And yeah, I was. Well, I didn't go. I couldn't."
The pilot turned away from the kettle and faced his partner. "But… why? The way you were talking about it, it was going to be… marvelous." He tried not to sound too jealous. He had never got invited to a friend's house for Christmas. He didn't really have many friends to speak of.
"How could I let my boyfriend be lonely?" he said simply.
The kettle whistled behind Martin but he didn't move to turn off the ring. He blinked, and then blinked again. "You came to spend Christmas with me?"
"Of course I did, silly!" Arthur jumped up and wrapped his arms around Martin's neck. "I was actually thinking that we could do some last minute caroling around the neighborhood. I just love the look on people's face when we knock on their doors and sing Christmas carols to them! Aww!" Arthur's face melted.
Martin turned away again, finally turning off the stove. He didn't want Arthur to see the flush crawling up his face. "I've, uh, I—I've never been c-caroling."
"Oh no, Skip that's terrible!" Arthur spun Martin around, cupped his reddening cheeks. "Skip, we have to go caroling if you've never done it before! It will be loads of fun!"
"But, I, um—" Martin struggled to think up excuses.
"No buts!" Arthur grinned. "I know for a fact that caroling starts at the town hall in…" He checked the wall clock. "Two hours! If we leave now we can just make the rush!"
Martin chuckled and rested his head on Arthur's shoulder. "Or we could wait until then. I did after all, hit my head not long ago…"
Arthur gasped. "That's right! We could have that tea, and watch some telly! It'll be great fun! I could even tend to your head. Mum sent me to a first aid class in Devon, you know in case we have an emergency on GERTI. And I told everyone that this was close to where Ottery St. Mary is, and that I had been there before to deliver a piano via an aeroplane! I don't think they believed me because they all looked at me funny. And do you know-"
Martin smiled as his partner kept babbling. It seemed that he was going to have a happy Christmas after all.