The faint shriek of snow hungry children and the seasonal melodies from the market stalls seeping in merged song through the window glass, Syed slopped another generous squirt of washing up liquid on the stubborn grease stains.

"Yum," Christian sighed contently, patting the fullness of his satisfied stomach. "That's loads better."

"I think your lovely food did it," he yawned, stretching languidly on the bed. "And the nap, like a medically induced coma, but induced by breakfast. You saved my life Sy, you're so clever."

"I do try," Syed grinned, turning from the sink to show the flash of pride in his lash brown eyes. "Though I doubt I saved your life…"

"Don't undersell yourself. I think I may have been dying."

"You were not going to die Christian."

"I could have done, you don't know. I could have been dead by Christmas," he declared, flouncing an arm melodramatically to the side. "How biblical."

"Easter," Syed corrected, "Birth in the stable at Christmas. Death and resurrection supposedly at Easter."

"All I heard there was erection."

"Well I'm just thankful I don't have to spend Christmas down Walford General, doing a bedside vigil."

"It'd be romantic though wouldn't it?" Christian asked wistfully, flopping onto his side to gain a better view. "Me in a polyester gown, you alternating between weeping into my pillow and building a shrine out of tinsel."

"Romantic and incredibly realistic", Syed concurred, wiping the suds off the scrubbed plate. "The shrine in particular."

"Tinsel shrine."

"Sorry, tinsel shrine. If I'm busy with a bedside vigil, how can I leave to buy it?"

'Even in hypothetical shrine games, he's practical', Christian smiled to himself.

"You go to the Children's ward and steal it from their tree," he explained, stretching each word slowly as if the solution were entirely obvious. "They start to cry but you don't care because you're overwhelmed by my sexy vulnerability."

"Are we now adding A and E to the list of places that turn you on?" Syed said low, raising an eyebrow.

"With you involved, the café toilet with Ian knocking on the door for a wee would turn me on."

"You say…the sweetest things."

"I know right," Christian grinned, holding his arm out for the groove of Syed's waist.

Complying happily with the request, Syed pressed his teeth teasingly into the curl of his lower lip and crossed the tempting path from the sink to the bed. Spotting the precarious wobble of a flailing angel above, he stopped his journey abruptly, jumping up to save it from an untimely death.

"I told you these things were crap," he strained, standing on tip toes to re-attach the tape. "They haven't even got a thread that sticks."

Mo had been pushing them onto anyone unfortunate enough to cross the market all week, and by the end of it, Christian had bought home three. Assuring a sceptical Syed that they were in no way stolen, he'd enthusiastically hung them to every door way, humming Wham over the murmur asking if he had actively searched for the gayest decorations he could find.

"It's a pink and gold fairy that sings 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' if you poke it, it does pretty much what it says on the tin Sy."

"Angel," Syed huffed, gaining a breath from the exertion. "And considering your usual standards, I thought you'd want more than…'does what it says on the tin'. They're quite hideous, and as you're always telling me, if I can tell that, that must mean they are really hideous."

"Don't say that, she'll hear. You'll hurt her feelings," Christian hushed, squinting his eyes to look up at the safely positioned angel, and whispering soothingly, "Don't worry, nasty Syed didn't mean it. He loves you, he's just a little shy about saying it, that's all."

Syed looked at him dryly. "Yeah, that's it."

"We should get nice new ones, from a shop."

"A shop? How outlandish."

"I can't believe I'm the one saying this. Considering your obsession with how this place looks, I'm amazed you let these things past the front door, let alone hung one on it."

"Furniture and art and stuff's for the whole year though," Christian mused, stretching back under the warmth of the sheets luxuriously. "Festive trimmings are for a couple of weeks, it's not that important…"

The words played over Syed's eyes, reflecting disappointment in their hue.

"Yeah, I guess…"

"Do you want to go out tonight?" Christian called out, Syed disappearing into the spare room. "We could go for a meal…now we've tested my stomach lining with grease. Take you out on a hot date. You might even get lucky," Christian winked as he came back into view, clutching clothes to his bare chest. "I'm offensively easy."

"I take it you've made a full recovery then?"

"Think so. I don't want to speak too soon, but I'd say I was perking up quite a bit," he smirked, shuffling down the bed. "Well...more than a bit, but I don't want to brag."

Tilting his head to one side at the sight in front of him, Christian watched adoringly as Syed shuffled obliviously around the flat, top half down, jeans half up. Pulling a black fluffed jumper over his face, he was blind to the wandering green eyes leisurely tracing the flat of his stomach and the gentle flex of his lifted arms.

"That's great then," a newly visible Syed smiled.

"I thought so. Now how about you stop getting pointlessly dressed and get your cute arse back to bed."

"As tempting as that is…" he half contemplated, giving an encouraging tap to the feet dangling on the edge of the bed. "…we've got stuff to do today."

"We do?"

"We're getting our Christmas tree," Syed grinned, the smile reaching to light the deepest sparkle of his eyes.

"We are?"

"Yeah…you said yesterday. Your best friend Dagenham Dave's getting his in and we said we'd go before we were left with the scraps."

Christian played the words 'Dave' 'trees' 'scraps' around his mind repeatedly, hoping something would be jogged, and pretty quickly by the bemused expression staring out at him.

"Oh", he recalled suddenly, a memory of nuzzling up in bed, and conversation about turkey and trees slowly coming back to him, "Yeah…trees, of course." Pulling the quilt up luxuriously, he snuggled his sleepy body back down into the warmth of their bed. "Doubt they'll all have gone, that can wait…"

His heart sinking, Syed looked regretfully at Christian's back, turned in his cocoon happily with little eagerness to move.

"You said you wanted to go early..." he reminded, playing with the loose cotton on his jeans uneasily "…make sure we got a good one."

"Yeah but it's all cold out there and so warm in here, like toast...it's not like there's a rush is there."

'Hangovers and sex are emergencies but with this there's no rush,' he felt himself chastise, hurt turning to vex.

"It's just a tree, it doesn't matter does..."

"Well clearly no!" Syed snapped, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Might as well just turn up on the 28th. It'll be brown and we'll have missed Christmas but at least it'll be cheap and involve minimal effort."

Christian lifted his head up, scrambling for words, alarmed at the change in tone.

"Sy…" he attempted.

"No you're right, I'm being stupid. You clearly couldn't care less so why should I?"

Christian could only gawp as, from the confusion of the bed, he helplessly watched Syed's back storm away. With the slam of the door, Christian winced and the welcome angel came crashing to the floor: the looming melody of 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' mocking the walls of the empty flat.