Christian glanced up from the newspaper as Syed trudged through the door.
"Morning sunshine! Been up the Mosque?"
Syed grimaced disapprovingly and hung his coat up.
"Up the Mosque? You make it sound like a nightclub."
Unabashed, Christian shovelled a spoonful of Frosties into his mouth, mumbling;
"You had to get up in the middle of the night to get there. I've just remembered I had a dream about a place in Vauxhall that we all used to go to when we were chucked out of the clubs, opened at five in the morning. The things that went on! Makes me blush."
Syed peered into the kitchen cupboard.
"Spare me, please, I don't want to know more than I have to about your sordid past. Have we only got instant coffee?"
Christian turned a page and grunted;
"Sorry, I drank the last of the posh stuff. Do you want me to go and get some more?"
Syed switched on the kettle and clattered a mug beside it.
"In your dressing gown? Nah, this'll do."
Christian pushed his bowl away and swivelled around in his chair.
"Are you alright baby? You seem shagged out."
Syed listened to the steam hiss as he poured the boiling water, deeply inhaling the sharp coffee smell.
"Living with you, that's hardly surprising. Not that I'm complaining of course."
He shuffled over to the sofa and slumped down. Concerned, Christian came and knelt on the floor in front of him, picking up his free hand and kissing each finger in turn. Syed sniffed suspiciously at the coffee, wishing it would hurry up and become cool enough to sip without scalding his mouth..
"Do you want me to blow on it for you?" Christian's air of innocence was betrayed by the glint in his eye. Syed laughed.
"Stop it you. Haven't you got work to do?"
Christian hoisted himself up, using a groaning Syed as a lever, almost making him spill his drink all over the white sofa.
"Ooops! Yeah I have. You should go back to bed for a bit."
Syed flopped his head back against the cushions.
"If only. I've got to see the accountant today, and the bank about extending our overdraft."
Christian was retreating quickly into the bathroom as Syed called;
"Did you hear me Christian? Overdraft. Stop buying stuff."
He heard the shower turned on full force as Christian trilled brightly;
"Sorry, what was that? Can't hear you!"
"Hiya Jennie!" Christian greeted his first client of the day, a scrawny blonde divorcee in her late fifties, with a beaming smile.
"Lets get you those arms like Madonna that you want. Ready to warm up?"
Over the top of her head, across the square, he spotted a slender figure and his heart warmed with love. Syed trudged towards the tube station, his head bowed, one shoulder stooped with the weight of his lap top bag. Christian fought against a sudden need to run across and scoop him up. Forcing himself back, reminding himself that the person in front of him was helping to put bread on their table, he flexed his muscles and said.
"Right. Here we go."
Syed contemplated just having a little lie down on one of the benches on the tube station platform. They looked quite tempting, if he could manage to ignore the almost certain fact that either a late night reveller or a vagrant had pissed on them. The train roared into sight and Syed realised with dismay that he couldn't even get a seat to have a sneaky snooze in.
'Perhaps I can sleep standing up, like a horse.' he hoped. But wedged up against the door he realised it would probably be a mistake to try, he didn't want to tumble out and get trampled on every time they opened.
He almost cried when he reached the accountants and saw the out of order sign on the lifts.
'Four flights. I need to get myself a personal trainer, one that doesn't personally train me in that way, and until three in the morning.' He smiled at the thought, and with a renewed resolution, began to march up the stairs.
It was very hot in the office and Syed was finding it hard to concentrate on the droning voice from the man across the desk, all he was hearing was; 'Blah blah, gross. Blah blah tax." He made himself think of cool streams and spurting geysers, but the latter had an unfortunate and embarrassing effect on him and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying to fill his mind with pictures of kittens instead.
"Thanks very much Gary." he shook hands firmly with his accountant and thankfully made to leave.
'Thanks very much Gary, haven't got a clue what you've just told me, but you're going to charge me a million pounds for the privilege anyway.' Syed cursed himself for not paying attention and forced his weary bones to trek off to the bank.
The managers 'No, you can't have any more money.' was a lot easier to comprehend, and with a heavy heart and heavy eyes he began the journey home.
After endless delays he finally made it back and dumped his bag down, relieved to be rid of it. Christian was by the mirror, doing up the buttons on his best black shirt and emanating a delicious waft of after shave.
"You've been ages. We're going to be late" he accused. Syed lifted his hands in dismay.
"Elephant on the line at Tottenham Hale or something. Late for what?"
"Zahida and Barry. Dinner. It's on the calendar."
Syed let out a sigh.
"So it is."
Christian came and put his arms around him, pulling him close and rubbing his face with his cheek.
"We don't have to go, you look exhausted. I'll ring and put it off."
Syed breathed in the scent of him and shook his head.
"Zahida will have cooked. I'll be fine. Just let me get a shower, that should wake me up a bit"
Syed liked Zahida and Barry, they were the first mutual friends he and Christian had made as a couple. Barry was one of Christian's clients, married to a Muslim woman. She had also faced some of the same difficulties with her family and community as Syed. He enjoyed being around her, she felt like home.
Christian watched Syed across the dinner table, full and happy after his meal, laughing at something Barry had just told him about Christian dropping a weight on his toe. He could sense him wilting, his eyelids drooping and his smile lazy and soft.
"No, I'm fine Barry."
Christian put his hand over the top of his glass to stop his host pouring him more wine.
Zahida looked up in surprise.
"The Clarkemeister refusing more alcohol? Outrageous!" she teased.
Christian laughed and pointed at Syed.
"I think it's time I got sleepyhead home to bed."
Syed squinted blearily at him.
"Always trying to get me into bed."
"And who can blame me? Come on." Christian bundled Syed into his coat and they kissed their friends goodnight, thanking them for a lovely evening.
Christian carried the sleeping Syed from the Taxi and up the stairs into their flat. Laying him gently on the bed, he took off his shoes and socks and began to remove the rest of his clothes. Syed stirred slightly, and murmured something under his breath that sounded to Christian like 'boiled earwig.'
"That's right Sy. Boiled earwig. Up you come." he lifted Syed into a seating position and pulled the duvet from beneath him, placed it carefully across his body and lowered him slowly onto the pillows. Syed snuggled down luxuriously, eyelashes a dark sweep across his cheekbones.
Christian undressed quietly and climbed in beside him. Turning on his side to switch off the bedside lamp, he felt a warm hand press against the small of his back and whispered words brush against his ear.
"I'm not that tired."