After getting a row of such thoughtful reviews, I wanted to write a quick chapter today. Thanks so much to all who are reviewing, they are each lovely and helpful in continuing. We're building...


"That smells amazing."

"Yeah but at this stage that isn't much of a compliment. Something that once resembled a cat would probably look appealing."

Syed laughs, dipping his head with what he is almost sure was a smile. He watches as Munir studies the oven thoughtfully, sniffing the oven gloves and crouching to investigate signs of burning. This is nice, he thinks. He'd had to convince himself to go, had changed his mind twice as he shoved on something random to wear and walked quickly so as not to panic and find himself back at the flat. It was only Iftar, just a casualness of food with a client that had asked. He was more than a client, probably. A friend, the beginning of one at least. He could do with that. He'd decided, as Munir had filled the normally tedious tube ride back from mosque with a tale of the time his Aunt had tried to set him up with her "slightly butch" niece, that this was probably something that could be good. He had missed this, speaking to another, the relaxation that came from a friend that had parts like you. The simplicity of walking into a mosque with someone, them knowing your name, and you, at least slightly, and have the smile they gave you remain. He hadn't even realised he had missed it, he supposed because there had been something wonderful in its place. It hadn't had the shape to slot in perfectly, it never could, yet somehow it had filled every space nonetheless. Maybe not every…but enough. That was gone now though, Syed had reminded himself, and there was nothing wrong in taking fragments of things to try and piece together something that could fit. When Munir had called and asked him if he fancied dinner, saying yes had almost seemed like a normal thing to do. It was nice to be somewhere, anywhere other than the imitation of a home he paid the bills for, and though the need of it still surprised him, it was nice to talk to someone...to hear a voice and see them look at him and smile. It felt strange though, that he was somewhere, with someone, though as the voice at the back of his mind told him when his nerves needed it, he wasn't with someone like that.

"Do you want me to do anything?" he asks, shuffling his hands in his pockets. "Lay the table?"

"It's all done thanks," Munir says, bouncing back onto his feet. "You're very domesticated."

He turns to look back at a hovering Syed, smiling with a pause;

"I like that."

Syed's lip twitches, his fingers distractedly rubbing the inside of his jeans.

"Not that domesticated," he murmurs. "Well maybe…just a little."

"You're special, obviously."

Munir turns, reaching to open up the bread bin.

"Asian men can be generally useless around the house," he adds, giving Syed something crusty to slice next to him on the counter. "Too much time being told we're king of the universe, too many sisters being told to clean up."

"My sister just refused. Mum used to tell her no one would marry her. Shabnam would scream whatever answer she'd read in whatever teenage feminist handbook she was reading that week."

He adds wistfully;

"There was generally a lot of screaming."

"Ah families," Munir echoes.

He watches subtly as to his left Syed meticulously cuts rings of bread.

"So your mum trained you instead?"

"No…I just sort of did it. Well, when I wanted to. Shabnam just got more of an earful though because then it was –"

"'Even your brother can do it, see? And you there, my daughter, making him do that?'"

Syed shakes his head with a smile, the put on Pakistani shrill making them laugh with the truth of it.

"Yep, pretty much."

"I doubt we're the only men who grow up like that. I think I'm just used to gay ones...my friends are all walking stereotypes. They cook, know where the hoover is, pluck… Are your friends the same?"

"Oh…I…" Syed pauses a moment, rubbing his thumb along the counter. "I don't really have many gay friends…none actually. That sounds really strange."

Munir looks at Syed's teeth nibbling at the bottom of his lip.

"That doesn't sound strange at all."

"No?"

"No course not. We don't all have to walk around in packs. And besides, it's different for us sometimes anyway. We have other parts to ourselves, it's not like God made us just for this right? Plus being sober on the scene isn't exactly fun…and not everyone gets it."

He glances over, clarifying;

"It's not just the Muslim part of our community that can't their head's around the other half. It just takes some time that's all. You start to date, meet others through them. I came out at 23 and I didn't know anyone. Met David, my first, through squash actually. Ten years later and everything's different. We broke up pretty quick but we're still friends and I met others through him. Did you not go out much with your ex's friends?"

"Not really..." Syed says quietly. "He never really introduced me…I guess maybe they weren't those sort of friends…or I wasn't that sort of boyfriend. We did once but… It was just the two of us really."

There's a moment of silence and Munir shifts slightly, noticing the way Syed's eyes are falling to the floor. He chastises himself for the stupidity of mentioning the ex, and tries to think of something that will bring back that smile.

"Tell me about Tamwar," he says cheerfully, grabbing a spoon to stir the contents on the hob.

"Tam?"

"Yeah. He just got married right? Did it go well?"

"Well…"

Munir laughs;

"That good huh?"

"It was good…and a disaster, like most Masood occasions. You don't want to hear about it."

"I do."

"Really? It's a long story..."

"It's not even sundown for twenty two minutes."

He reaches to pass over the olive oil;

"We've got plenty of time."


"Time!"

"Fuck off Mitchell, no way was that time."

Christian ducks, a half manicured nail clumsily slapping him around the head.

"Yes it was. You're cheating."

He flounces backwards, the sofa cushion catching half the impact of the wall. He's past the point of feeling though; the numbness was after all the aim.

"It's my flat. My vodka," he says with flat petulance. "I can cheat if I want."

"Ten men you've done, ten places. One minute," Roxy repeats, "They were your rules Clarke."

"I did it you dozy cow, I got ten."

"Nooooo," Roxy screams, elongating with insistence into his ear. "No no, names were missing. 'That guy, the guy with the arse' is not a name Christian. It is a DESCRIPTION, a poor one at that."

"It's a good one. Accurate, and it got all the important details."

He throws a hand out, squashing her face in the removal of it from his.

"No you wouldn't pass a line-up, y'know, a thing, you couldn't spot someone in a line up with it so it doesn't count."

"I could," he says, his tone falling serious. "I'd just get him to bend over."

A cackle yelps, hysterical laughter rolling onto him.

"You still need the name!" she realises, mouthing 'You Lose' on repeat as her fingers form an L on his head.

"I can't be expected to remember names. I didn't know their names in the '90s, Jesus. I got the best places, I should win for that."

Christian leans forward, scratching his scalp as the alcohol hits the back of his throat.

"No you get a shot when you lose!" Roxy screeches, grabbing the bottle away.

"How the fuck does that work? Who invented that?"

"You did."

"That's shit."

A morose look creeps out onto his face and Roxy pokes him gently, throwing her arms around to give a cuddle.

"You did get the best places though," she mollifies quietly. "I liked three in a single tent on the beach, just 'cos it's snug."

"I got cramp."

"Is that what you call it oi oi oi?"

He shakes his head with some sort of a smile, going to re-fill the shots.

"Jeeesus I'm so drunk already. Christian you're useless, what an influence."

He looks at her, mouth falling;

"I thought you loved me."

"I do. I love you this much."

Her hands stretch out past her breasts;

"This much."

"Then shut up and drink with me."

"We won't get in the clubs if we're not careful," she says, shaking her head.

"I don't care, fuck 'um. We'll drink here, then go out. We'll get in somewhere."

"R and R, see what that fucking Janine slapper has done to my club."

"Nah somewhere in town, it's too quiet round here. I need to get out."

"Nooo we should go down R and R. I want to see how crap it is and laugh. That's what I'll do, I'll say 'That's crap'. She won't like that."

"It's too small, I need more," Christian mumbles, shaking himself. "Noise or sum'ink, I need to get out."

"All week you've done that, we can stay local tonight."

He clambers off the sofa, legs stumbling briefly before he puts an arm out to catch himself.

"Shit."

"You've had enough babe, let's stay in. We can stay here once."

"You stay, I'm goin'. I can't think round 'ere," he rambles, unable to hear the voice that says here needs to be avoided because it is the place where all the bad thoughts live.

"No don't –"

"I need noise, I need dancing. I need it all 'cos I'm great. I am. Jane thinks I'm shit, even my own sister does. That fucking evil hobbit has always thought it, looking at me like a poisoned dwarf with her dwarf language. I'm not a dwarf, I'm a gay giant, I don't know what she's saying."

"Course you don't."

"Even my own sister thinks it now. Lovely Lesley, she thinks it. Probably in with the dwarf, making some pact to screw me over, keep him away."

"No, she wouldn't. That's crazy."

She looks up;

"Who's a dwarf?"

Christian doesn't hear it, blinking hard. He drags his hands up his face, shaking roughly at his cheeks;

"I've gotta get out of here, come on."

Her feet trip, stumbling half out a heel as he yanks her up with force.

"Wait wait wait," she cries, hobbling to the door. "Have I got underwear on?"

"I'll check in the cab."

"It'll be too late then. I'll be pantsless."

"I don't care, come on," he says, pulling her out. "Grab the vodka, we'll finish it on the way."


"Do you want anything else? Water maybe?"

"I'm good, thank you," Syed mumbles, stretching slightly on the sofa cushion. "I'm officially full. Incredibly full. It was delicious."

He adds;

"And not because I would've eaten something that was close to a cat."

Munir's lips curl into a smile;

"What every chef wants to hear."

"It's getting late though," Syed says, to what is to his surprise, reluctantly. "I should leave you in peace."

"Don't be daft."

"Still…we're both up before four."

"True," Munir nods, putting his arm on the sofa to drag his weary body up. "I always forget somehow…until the alarm goes."

He takes the lead out the room, Syed following out to the hallway until they're at what he suspects to be a welcome mat.

"Yes," Munir says flatly as Syed kneels to put on a shoe, "If you're wondering, that is a welcome mat."

Syed laughs;

"I like it. It's very…" he muses, pulling on the other, "…domesticated."

Munir smiles;

"Flattery."

Syed gets back to his feet, finding himself checking for a coat he hadn't brought.

"Well...thank you for a lovely dinner."

"My pleasure."

"I had a nice time...which is saying a lot for me right now."

"Well I'm glad."

There is a flush of scent as Syed is leant towards, a warm hand resting on his arm and the feel of lips brushing the side of his cheek.

"You come back anytime."