"It's the middle of the night, Syed". With typical diplomacy, Syed had blamed the early start on the day of Bushra's party on his mother, and made Christian laugh with his imitation of her persistent nagging. The rest of the day had been unadulterated hard work but Christian reckoned he'd scored a point or two with Amira's singing and his successful flirtation with Bushra. He wasn't really surprised by her reaction when he'd come out, but he hadn't expected that his colleagues would recoil in the way they did.

His anger at their reaction crackled inside him as they cleared up at the hall, and went back to the Unit. They were supposed to be a team, but it had been made very clear who was the outsider. No surprise then, that he lashed out at Syed when he walked in: "Just go, Syed." "I can't". What the hell was the man talking about? Why couldn't he just abide by his own principles and leave Christian alone? But Syed was looking at him, stubborn and defiant. Christian didn't stop to try and decipher what was going on in Syed's eyes, but when the younger man did turn to leave, he grabbed his elbow, knowing that if they didn't resolve this now, the moment might not come again.

The argument froze, the moment stopped in time. Christian's brain couldn't think fast enough to compute how they'd got from 'haraam' to this. But when Syed's lips touched his, all rational thought dropped from his mind. Slammed up against the freezer, their lips met, moved apart, and met again with increasing hunger. Christian's hands went round Syed's waist, brushing urgently up and down against his back. Syed groaned softly and Christian smiled, increasing the pressure from his lips, moving his hands between them, pulling Syed's t-shirt out of his trousers and gently stroking the soft hair he could feel at Syed's waistband.

Syed's hands were around Christian's head, pulling his face closer to his own, consuming him as if Christian were about to disappear at any moment.

"Sy".

His only reply was another groan.

"Sy."

"Mnnmmhhhmmm."

Christian pulled away. "Sy. We can't do this here. What if someone came in?"

"Shit. Who? What? I … I don't know…" Syed buried his head in Christian's shoulder.

"Let's go back to mine. We can do this in privacy there."

Syed looked Christian in the eyes and for a moment, Christian thought the younger man was going to turn away.

"OK."

Syed had gone home before midnight, leaving Christian with a stray long dark hair on his pillow and rumpled sheets, still warm from the heat of his body. It hadn't been more than a couple of hours, but Christian knew that something momentous had happened. Certainly, in Christian's extensive experience, he'd never had a sexual encounter so generous or so satisfying. Their bodies had moved together like dancers in a choreographed rhythm, and even their whispered mutterings seemed to have a beat of all their own. He had stretched himself across the empty space in the bed left by Syed's departure and tried to work out what the hell had just happened.

Whatever it was, it had happened again. And Christian knew it would happen repeatedly. He wanted it to – he wanted it to happen all day, every day. Syed's sulky rejection and frightened threats couldn't diminish the magic of the time they'd spent in each others' arms. He'd tried to remind Syed of that, but Syed had pushed him away every time. Then, the crazed drama of the proposal in the Vic – a teetotaller, proposing in a pub – followed by the endless wedding chatter and the engagement party.

That party. Christian hadn't wanted to go, but couldn't keep himself away. He'd wondered if he could do something, say something, anything, to stop the engagement in its tracks, to make Syed change his mind. Instead, their eyes had burned into each other across the room, and in the kitchen Syed had thrown Christian's hand away, demanding that he never touch him again. And Christian had gone to the Vic that night and, well… he still carried the scars of the foolishness of his decision making after that.

And now Syed was back in his flat. This time, they hadn't argued - there was no adrenalin fuelled passion. Instead, Syed had spent two hours waiting outside Walford Police Station, while inside Christian had been grilled by two supposedly specialist hate-crime police officers.

"Mr. Clarke, are you sexually promiscuous?"

"I… well… what's that got to do with this?"

"Is picking up men in your local a frequent event for you, Mr Clark?"

Christian's face still burned with shame at the memory of it. He hadn't wanted to go to the police, hadn't wanted to have what happened turned into a judgement on the way he chose to live his life. It was a continuation of the attack in some senses – not as physically painful, but still a reproach on who he was and the choices he made.

Syed was standing hesitantly in the doorway. He'd asked Christian to invite him home, but didn't seem sure what to do with himself once he'd got there. Christian held out a hand to him. "Come in, sit down. I still can't believe you waited for me. Why did you do that?"

Syed took a few steps in and sat down on the pristine white sofa. "I couldn't leave. Even though I wasn't in there with you, I couldn't leave you. I wasn't with you last night… I mean… if I hadn't thrown you out of the party, you wouldn't have… he wouldn't have… I couldn't leave you alone again."

"Sy," it wasn't much more than a murmur but their arms went around each other and they clung tightly. Christian felt his eyes well up with tears for the umpteenth time that day. Pulling away, he stood up and grabbed Syed's hand,guiding him towards the bed. "Just hold me for a bit, will you Sy? Just to help me go to sleep."

The younger man enclosed him in his arms, gently brushing his lips against the bruised crown of Christian's head. "Sleep, my lovely," he whispered. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"Really?" Christian murmured, his eyes heavy lidded.

Syed nodded gently. "Yes. I'm here to hold your hand and take care of you." He gently interlocked his fingers with Christian and watched his lover's breathing change as he slipped into a dream.

Christian's sharp, jerky movements shook Syed awake in the early hours. "Not straight… not this time…" Christian's voice got louder. "What you doing, no… not again,,, Sy…. where's Syed,.. Sy!"

"Here, Christian, I'm right here, wake up!" Syed shook him awake. Christian's eyes opened and he stared blankly at Syed for a second. "What happened?"

"You had a nightmare, you were crying out."

"Him. It was about him. He was just about to start kicking me." Christian wiped his hand across his face trying to wipe away the memories of Luke's attack. "I need some water. Do you want something?"

"I'll get it." Syed threw the covers off and took the couple of steps towards the kitchen. "Do you think you'll be able to get back to sleep?"

Christian sat up in bed – "Nah, not for a while. But you sleep if you want to. I'll just sit up for a bit."

Syed climbed back under the covers, handing Christian a glass of water. "We spend so much time together at work, but it feels like we never have time to talk."

Christian smiled, and pulled Syed closer to him.

"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure"

"What happened the first time you got beaten up? The time you ended up in hospital?"

Christian's arms tightened. "It was a group of them. They'd been around the estate where I lived for a while. I guess they'd seen me bring guys back, or go into the gay pubs in town. Anyway, they started shouting at me in the street, calling me names, that kind of thing. Then they started throwing stones at me. I just ignored it, thought it would go away. Then one night, I was walking home, had had a bit to drink and they pounced on me. Like I said, I ended up in hospital."
"Christian…" Syed hesitated, uncertain.

"It was a long time ago, Sy. But it looks like attitudes haven't changed. You start to get complacent, feel safe somewhere, people know you, seem to accept you for who you are, you almost forget that you're different. And then something happens, and suddenly, you're isolated again – an outsider, with people more bothered about what happens in your bedroom than anything else."
"Christian.."

"What? What is it?"

"It frightens me."

"What does?"

"The thought of that happening again… to you, to me. To us."

"To us? What do you mean – to us?"

"I … I don't know…. I'm just frightened that's all. This, you, it's been the best thing that's ever happened to me – and one of the worst. I can't sleep, I can't concentrate, I see Amira, my family, go to mosque – and then I come to work and you're there, and I'm so confused. How can this" Syed turned round in Christian's arms to face him – "be so wrong? And why am I still doing it when I know it's haraam?"

Christian leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against Syed's. "It's not wrong, Sy. What's wrong about two people caring about each other? What does it matter what gender they are?"

"I don't know. But I've been taught it's haraam – all my life. The rules that I live my life by, the beliefs I have, they're embedded here, Christian", Syed pressed his hand against his heart. "I can't just throw them out. No matter how much I might want to. Life's a struggle, and we're supposed to fight against sinful wants and desires – not just pick and choose the rules we want to live by."

"Why can't you make your own decision about what's right and what's wrong? Don't some Muslims drink? Some smoke or have sex outside marriage? Why is it ok for them, and not for you?"

"It's not ok for them – at least as far as I'm concerned." Syed pulled away from Christian and sat up in the bed. "Christian, I was brought up believing these things, knowing these things. Just like you grew up knowing your own name, or the street where you lived. You couldn't wipe that knowledge out at a single stroke. I can't wipe out the fact that this is wrong. I'm sorry. I wish it wasn't, I wish it with all my heart, but it is."

"Sy… you know, we both know how much pain, and heartache and cruelty there is in this world. Look at my face, at the state of my ribs. Not everyone wants good things to happen, or works to make the world a better place. With such shit going on around us, how can something which is based on love and care be wrong? Isn't love always good, no matter who it's between?"
"Love is, yes, but it doesn't have to be expressed physically. Amira and I…. Amira loves me but we're not sleeping together. No-one would stop us being friends Christian, but it shouldn't be physically expressed."
"Didn't God make you as you are? Didn't Allah create you – every bit of you? Even the bit that makes you want to have sex with me? Why would that happen if it wasn't right?"
"Everyone has their faults Christian, that's what being human is all about. It's our responsibility to work to overcome those faults."

"So what are you doing here then? These past few weeks, what have they all been about?"
"You know what they've been about. You've told me. They've been about us. Getting to know each other. Finding each other. Arguing and fighting." Syed smiled up at Christian. "Making up again. It's been… beautiful. And… " Syed stroked his finger down Christian's bare chest. "Delicious."

There was a silence, as Christian watched Syed's finger trace itself down towards his stomach and below. Suddenly, the finger stopped.

"I know you must think I'm being hypocritical – and self-righteous, and judgemental. And stupid…."

"Ssssh." Christian leaned in to kiss him. "While you're here, you're none of those things. While you're here, you choose to be here. You're with me, and what's happening between us is right, and good. And, Sy – I don't want it to stop."

Syed's hand moved lower. "Neither do I, Christian. Neither do I."