Packing

Douglas decided he had had enough when he was slapped in the face by a flying sandal. He had been lying on the bed beside a bulging suitcase, listening to the soothing sounds of Classic FM and wondering why he had ever thought a holiday would be easy. They hadn't even left yet and Martin had worked himself into a tizzy.

Having seen Martin's flight-bag on a regular basis, Douglas wasn't wrong for having assumed that packing for a week away together would be efficient and neat. Martin kept his identification in one place, his clothes at the bottom, and his toiletries at the top so that he could take them out for the security officers at check-in... when he was on the job.

Douglas wasn't that different. Over thirty years of daily international travel had instilled in him the need to pack tightly and quickly. The only time he had over-packed had been when he had taken his daughters on brief weekends in Europe.

But Martin... dear lord, Martin went mad. The bottom layer of their shared suitcase was perfectly arranged. The clothes were rolled into space saving bundles and their shower gels had been decanted into tiny plastic bottles that Martin had bought specially for the occasion. For an hour or so, Douglas had enjoyed the peace of packing as a couple. There was a touching uniformity to the way their things fitted together.

Then Martin had remembered something that Douglas hadn't thought to need. Then another. Then another. Now, Martin was rushing about the house, reappearing only to fluster and flush red, muttering under his breath as he lobbed and tossed and positively flung accessories and spare shoes and first aid kits and things that they didn't even use in their real life into the case – no sense of order, no care, simply a growing mountain of things that Douglas argued against until the effort grew too exhausting.

"Martin... what are you doing?" Douglas drawled as another tiny bottle hit his stomach. He spoke just in time to drag Martin to a halt in the doorway. "We were packed an hour ago – we were packed three hours ago, and we're not even leaving for another two days."

He turned the bottle over in his hand and rolled his eyes at the golden font declaring SPF 50. Martin, pale and freckled as he was, would need it he supposed. In his determination to follow some hitherto unknown holiday guidebook, Martin would probably insist on applying Douglas' sun-cream for him if he refused to do it himself – the thought wasn't an unpleasant one.

"Well I'm sorry if I'm inconveniencing you, Douglas, but I thought it would be nice if we were prepared," Martin replied. He seemed to pace back and forth whilst standing in one place, wearing a hole in a single spot on the floor. "U-unless you'd rather I stopped. I'll be enjoying the mini-bar while you're opening our suitcase to find that you haven't packed any underwear."

Douglas arched an eyebrow.

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

Martin's frown slipped into a smirk and then switched back so quickly that Douglas almost missed it. He shook his head and crossed the room to take the sun-cream from Douglas. His attempts to neaten the pile of miscellaneous items that he had thrown into their case did nothing to make the jumble look less disastrous.

"Perhaps we should leave everything here and make the most of the room," Douglas suggested, leaning closer and propping himself up on one elbow.

"I thought you wanted to see the sights," Martin shot back.

"Damn," Douglas smirked. "I did say that, didn't I?"

When Martin straightened up, his cheeks were still red and his hands were still jittering in their desire to pack everything he owned, but he was smiling. He trailed his fingers down Douglas' shoulder, along the curve of his arm. Then he pointed a stern finger at him and headed back towards the hall.

"I-if I find anything missing from that case, I won't be happy," he called over his shoulder.

With that in mind, Douglas hoisted himself upright and sifted as subtly as he could through the suitcase. There had to be something that he could remove that would simultaneously go unnoticed, and be of some use to him in its absence.