It's Christmas, so with Christmas comes not particularly sophisticated writing and references to vomit. It does in my world anyway.

This is a little story about Christian, Syed, and their first festive season together. It's not much, but a gift to all of you, regardless. Thoughts, as always, would be wonderful. Happy Santa day to all!

"Do you want me to hold your hair?"

A sequin draped angel dangling precariously above him, Syed leaned casually against the door frame.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," Christian said flatly.

Attempting half-heartedly to stifle the mirth that was threatening to ripple through him, Syed shifted his gaze to the steam of the mirror. He didn't want to laugh, but there was something about the sight of Christian's giant frame kneeling on the bathroom floor, embracing a toilet, that didn't seem to lend itself well to the solemnity that was being required.

"What exactly am I supposed to be taking seriously?"

"Oh I don't know, the fact that your boyfriend, your partner, the love of your life, is one hurl from losing his insides."

Brow furrowed, Syed tilted his head to the side thoughtfully.

"You know you've not actually been sick yet."

"I'm aware of that."

"You've just been crouched holding the toilet bowl…for about an hour."

"I like it," Christian said fondly, goose bump prickled arms draped around the porcelain. "It comforts me."

"And it looks so attractive."

"Hush. You are supposed to love me no matter what…"

"And I will," Syed promised earnestly. "Have a desire to rip your clothes off on the other hand…"

"…in sickness and in health," Christian quickly inserted, throwing a petulant glance at Syed before re-finding his position.

"Pretty sure that refers to being loving towards someone in the old fashioned sense rather than sexual favours. Besides, if I'm being technical, we never did those vows. We're more modern inter-faith homosexual life partners than Christian institutionally-tied husbands."

"Plus…" he mused. "I think it means not abandoning them if they get dementia, or when it was written, the plague or something. It wasn't a reference to self-induced ethanol woes…or as the modern folk say, a bit of a hangover."

"Do not minimise my pain. We both know I've been poisoned."

"The only thing that you've been poisoned with is the common sense of a fourteen year old boy. Maybe you've caught idiot disease. Is that a thing?"

"Sorry I missed that bit," Christian swivelled around the tiles beneath him gingerly, leaning in to have a conversation with the toilet bowl. "A skull crushing pounding was rushing through my head just at the point where you were verbally abusing me. Be a dear and say it again."

"Idiots. As in you…and naturally Roxy. Or pretty much anyone who combines red shots, green cocktails, and egg nog. Even I know that's asking for disaster. And who drinks egg nog anyway."

Christian slumped back onto the base of his arse glumly, resting his hand over his mouth for effect.

"Fair point to both."

Syed shook his head sympathetically, pausing to give a supportive smile before shuffling over to kneel next to him, their legs entwining on the cold hard tiles. He could never stay fed up at Christian, something about the way he ironically did innocence so well and the fact he had never loved anyone more in his life.

"Do you feel properly poorly?" he asked, twiddling with the fluffs of hair at the nape of his neck. "That egg nog could have been off or anything. Does Roxy know how to use a fridge?"

"Yeah I taught her once," Christian sighed, leaning back into the comforting touch. "Wrote down the instructions with big letters and pictures."

"She might have lost them. I could call NHS direct. Does that still exist? I could try it, they probably have a holiday related mishaps department."

"'My hand's stuck up a turkey's rear and I kind of like it, what do I do…'"

"Haha yes, and you know, your more typical 'I didn't cook the turkey well and I don't like it, what do I do…' I'll get the phone."

Leaning up to move, Syed was stopped by the touch of Christian's hand on his.

"It's ok," he promised, bravely. "I don't want to make a fuss..."

Syed laughed softly.

"Of course not."

"Maybe something to eat would help. Do you think you could keep something down?" He mollified, rubbing the base of his back in soothing circular motions, enjoying the familiar curve of Christian's broad shape, warm under the cloth of his night-time tee. "I could make you some breakfast? Something greasy?"

Christian stroked his fingers appreciatively through Syed's bed ruffled waves. Guiltily, he considered that perhaps idiocy shouldn't be rewarded, but when Syed was in full nurturer mode, it was too cute to turn down.

"If you think it's a good idea, I could give it a go."

"I could do…fried eggs…and tomatoes that barely look like tomatoes, just how you like them. Throw those sausages in if you're really lucky…prove the lamb ones can be just as deliciously unhealthy, make them all fatty and sizzling…"

Christian's hand re-found its place over his mouth as he gagged. 'That'll teach you', he rebuked himself.

"Dry toast then?" Syed smiled, moving to get up.

"And some alka seltser would be amazing."

"Will do."

"And an egg," Christian inserted. "And maybe a sausage. Your special tomatoes, obviously. No mushrooms though, I don't want to push it."

"I think I can do that."

"Aww my angel," Christian grinned, lovingly.

"If you need me I'll be making a home on the bathroom floor…"