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"What are you doing for Christmas this year?"
Hathaway looked up from his desk. "The usual. Takeaway from somewhere. Having a drink. Waiting to hear the reindeer land outside."
"No, you're not. You're coming to Manchester."
Hathaway gave Lewis a quizzical look. "Because…"
"Because I'm always outnumbered there, and I need someone who's not always tutting at me."
"Tut tut, sir."
Lewis made a face at Hathaway, which made Hathaway smile in spite of himself. "They worry about me, and I hope bringing you along will help convince them I really am fine."
"That's something they neglect in the holiday songs," Hathaway said. "That you need reinforcements for a family Christmas."
"Mmm," Lewis agreed.
Hathaway considered the invitation. "And you're certain I wouldn't be an imposition? Lyn won't need to buy extra food for me?"
"If you knew how long we eat leftovers, you wouldn't ask," Lewis said with a grin. "What do you reckon?"
By rights, Hathaway should've begged off for fear of intruding. But if Lewis said he wasn't… He nodded. "I'd be pleased to come with you for Christmas, sir. Thank you."
Lewis seemed to cheer up noticeably. "Good! I was planning to drive there a day early, what with Christmas Eve traffic being dodgy."
"To say the least," Hathaway agreed. "Is there anything I should bring?"
"They won't be expecting anything," Lewis said. "Just bring what you need."
"And presents," Hathaway said.
Lewis gave Hathaway a skeptical look. "I didn't invite you so you'd buy me entire family Christmas presents."
"No, but I want to, as thanks for their hospitality," Hathaway said.
Lewis nodded. "Bring music for the trip up if you like."
"Anything?"
"Within reason. I won't bring any Valkyries if you don't bring thrash metal."
Hathaway nearly laughed aloud. "Thrash metal?"
"I was reading something about that," Lewis said.
Hathaway nodded, unable to hide his amusement. "I see."
"It's Christmas. Be charitable," Lewis retorted.
Hathaway turned back to his computer, still smiling. "As you say, sir."
***
Lewis eyed Hathaway uneasily as Hathaway connected his iPod to the car's audio system. "I'm almost afraid to ask."
"It's nothing bad, I promise," Hathaway said. "I've made us a Christmas playlist to get us in the holiday spirit."
Lewis chuckled when he realised the first song was "Last Christmas" by Wham! "Very nice."
"Thought you'd like it," Hathaway said, looking proud of himself.
"Nice to have company for this," Lewis said. "After the first hour on the road it gets dead boring."
"What do you usually do?" Hathaway asked.
Lewis shrugged. "Turn the radio louder. Sometimes sing, if I know the song. Talk to myself about whether I've missed the right road."
"Have you tried audiobooks?" Hathaway asked.
Lewis nodded. "No good. I get too involved in the story and then I do miss the road. Had a Len Deighton book on once and nearly went to Scotland."
Hathaway laughed. "I would've thought you had enough crime in your own life."
"Thrillers are different," Lewis said. "They're more…well…thrilling."
"Ever think of writing one?"
Lewis grimaced. "No. That'd be like me trying to build a clock. Loads of people do it better, and I'd rather see what they've done. If we're talking about dream goals, I'd rather play cricket than write a book."
"How's your fast bowling?"
Lewis allowed himself a moment of pride. "Better than you might think. Don't get much practise these days but I do love it." He chuckled. "I used to try to watch the occasional Test match but somehow Morse always found a murder to investigate round about that time."
"I take it he wasn't a fan," Hathaway said.
Lewis snorted. "He was meant to be watching me play once and fell asleep. Missed my best catch."
Hathaway shook his head. "Honestly."
"Wonderful Christmastime" was playing now, and Hathaway said, "I'll have you know I included this even though the chord progression sets my teeth on edge."
"Why? What's wrong with it?"
"It's a bit like a plastic Father Christmas--synthetic and relentlessly cheery. Gets a bit samey."
Lewis glanced at Hathaway. "You want a holiday song that sounds sad?"
"Oh, just wait. They're on here," Hathaway said.
"What, like…" Lewis tried to think of a melancholy Christmas song. "…like that one from The Snowman?"
"No, not that one."
"Why not?"
"Out of my vocal range on the best of days."
"You mean you're not a boy soprano?" Lewis said. "I'm well shocked."
Hathaway laughed. Lewis smiled and drove on.
***
Hathaway could see someone waiting by the window as they parked in front of the house. He checked his watch. "Are we late?"
"Can't be. We didn't tell them when we'd get here," Lewis said.
Hathaway squinted. "Your daughter's at the window."
"Family tradition," Lewis said with a smile. "The week of Christmas, Val always let the kids stay awake and watch at the window till I got home from work. Lyn does the same this time of year when I visit."
Hathaway could just imagine Lyn and her brother, hands and faces pressed against the window, waiting eagerly for their dad. He imagined the Lewis house had been a very happy one at Christmastime. "That sounds cosy."
Lewis smiled at him, shouldering his travel bag. "Come in and see."
Hathaway still didn't entirely understand why he'd accepted Lewis's invitation. The possibility of something going wrong or becoming awkward was considerable. But Hathaway was tired of being alone at Christmas. He'd wanted a change, and Lewis had offered one. So, for good or ill, here he was, and here he'd be until the New Year.
Lyn emerged from the house, holding Daisy, now two years old, in her arms. "Hi, Dad!"
"Lovely to see you, pet," Lewis said, giving his daughter a kiss. "And who's this young lady? Surely she'll be off to university next year?"
Daisy giggled. "Papa!"
Lewis turned to explain to Hathaway, "Granddad's still a bit too much for her yet." He pulled Hathaway closer, presumably so he wouldn't get any ideas about running off into the night. "This is James."
Lyn beamed. "James! Hi! So glad to finally meet you." She turned to her daughter. "Daisy, can you say hello to James?"
Daisy talked around her thumb, which was now planted firmly in her mouth. "Hello."
Hathaway smiled at the little girl. "Hello. That's a very nice jumper you're wearing."
Daisy was evidently thrilled to discuss her jumper. "Ducks!" she crowed, throwing both hands into the air in delight. "Quack quack quack!"
"Daisy loves ducks," Lyn explained with a smile. "Tim, come help with the bags."
"Oh, no need. I can get them," Hathaway said, gesturing for Lewis to join his daughter inside.
Tim, a well-built man of middle height, came to the door. "James, good to see you." They shook hands. "Do you have much?"
"No, just my things and the presents," Hathaway said.
"Presents?" Daisy asked.
"Not for today, I'm afraid," Hathaway told her. "For Christmas."
He and Tim retrieved the bags from the boot of Lewis's car and trudged back toward the house.
"How long have you two been together?" Tim asked.
Hathaway stopped to think. "Nearly six years."
"And we're only meeting you now?" Tim shook his head. "He doesn't half keep his secrets, does he?"
Hathaway felt suddenly awkward. "Am I a secret?"
Tim realised he'd misspoken. "No, not at all! We've heard loads about you. I only meant we should've met you ages ago."
Hathaway very rarely met men as friendly as Tim and wasn't quite sure what to do with them when he did. "Oh. Well, I'm…happy to be here now."
Tim nodded encouragingly. "That's the spirit."
They carried the bags upstairs to the guest bedroom. Lewis's things were in there as well. The room had an enormous queen-size bed.
"Only one guest room, sorry," Tim said. "But we knew you wouldn't mind sharing."
Sharing? Hathaway stared at the bed. It did seem an awfully…intimate thing to do. But they didn't have the space for an extra guest, and he certainly wasn't going to make them feel it.
"No, of course not," Hathaway said. "Thank you for putting me up on such short notice."
"Now, none of that," Tim said, clapping Hathaway on the back just a bit too hard for Hathaway's liking. "We're glad you're here."
Hathaway couldn't imagine why, but he managed an appreciative look all the same. "Thanks."
"Question for you," Tim said. "How's your cooking?"
"Good when I apply myself," Hathaway said. "Middling otherwise."
"Any chance you'd be willing to apply yourself to Christmas dinner?" Tim asked hopefully.
"Of course! What do you need?"
"One of the dangers of a nurse and a physio cooking Christmas dinner is scraping burnt bits off the turkey," Tim said. "Robbie never puts up a fuss, but I would like him to actively enjoy the turkey this year, if you think you can manage it."
"Certainly," Hathaway said. "Stuffing inside all right?"
"If it'll all cook properly, I don't see why not."
"I'd be happy to help." And that wasn't politeness. He would genuinely feel better about all this if he could contribute something of some measure.
"Right. Then we'll get the rest sorted and you can be the turkey man."
Hathaway made an attempt at camaraderie. "Just don't call me Turkey Man in front of…" It genuinely took effort to say it. "…Robbie. He might start calling me that at work."
Tim laughed. "No fear. We'll keep it under our hats, eh?" He winked at Hathaway.
What a strange man. Friendly enough, but undeniably strange.
***
"Everything all right?" Lyn asked as Hathaway and Tim came downstairs.
"Better than that. James has agreed to prepare our Christmas turkey."
Lewis, who'd been dandling Daisy on his knee, looked up in surprise. "Have you?"
"If that's all right," Hathaway said, looking instantly awkward.
"Of course it's all right. Maybe this year it'll even be edible," Lyn joked.
"Don't let them push you into doing all the work round here," Lewis told Hathaway. Then he turned to Lyn. "And don't you push him to. He's on holiday, same as me."
"Don't worry. We'll use him sparingly, I promise," Lyn said with a grin.
"I really don't mind, sir," Hathaway said.
Lewis held up his hands. "All right. I see I'm outnumbered." He looked at his granddaughter. "Daisy'll side with me. Won't you, Daisy?"
Daisy shook her head. "No."
They all had a laugh at that. Tim picked up Daisy and took Hathaway into the kitchen for a tour, and Lyn turned to Lewis with a funny worried look.
"What is it?" Lewis asked.
"I like James," Lyn said, choosing her words carefully. "We both do. But Dad, why does he call you 'sir' here? Is it…is it a Fifty Shades of Grey thing?"
"A what?" Lyn's last sentence made no sense to Lewis.
Lyn went red. "I'm not judging you. Not at all. There are lots of people who enjoy those things and you shouldn't feel any embarrassment about it."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lewis protested, completely at sea.
"You two are being safe, aren't you?"
"Course we're being safe," Lewis said, exasperated. It was the same old question, then--just posed differently. "We're partners. We protect each other."
"Oh, obviously, obviously," Lyn said hastily. "I didn't mean to imply you wouldn't. I only thought…"
"Go on," Lewis said. Better to have it over with now.
Lyn sighed. "He's not invincible, Dad, just because he's young."
Lewis could still feel the weight of Hathaway's limp body against his shoulder when he'd carried him out of the fire, and the blind, unrelenting fear that he would lose someone else he cared about.
"I know that," Lewis said, looking at his daughter in all seriousness. "You don't have to tell me."
For whatever reason, that seemed to satisfy Lyn. "Okay."
Lewis nodded. "Okay."
But their conversation stayed with him and gnawed at him later on. Why would she think he'd do something to hurt Hathaway? He'd never put any of his partners in danger, not ever, and he'd never lost one on the job because of something he'd done.
"You look perplexed," Hathaway said as they climbed the stairs to the guest room.
"Just thinking."
"About?"
"Lyn's worried about you."
Hathaway frowned. "About me?"
Lewis nodded. "She wanted to know, do I protect you. Do I know you're not invincible."
"I hope you told her yes."
"I did, but…why would she think I didn't?"
"Maybe she just wants us both to take care."
"Yeah, she said that."
"Well, there you are."
They dressed for bed and took their respective sides. Lewis wasn't sure why neither one of them had been offered the couch…but then, he had back trouble and Hathaway would have to sleep with his feet dangling over the edge. So he supposed it wasn't too surprising.
Hathaway had brought a few books and was reading one of them before bed, while Lewis was lying back and letting his mind drift.
"What's Fifty Shades of Grey?" Lewis asked.
Hathaway dropped his book. "What?"
"Lyn asked why you call me sir," Lewis said. "Asked if it was a Fifty Shades of Grey thing."
"Oh my God." Hathaway covered his face with his hands for a moment, then peeked through his fingers at Lewis. "What did you say?"
"That I didn't know what she was on about," Lewis said. "Clearly you do. What is it?"
Hathaway went bright red. "Erotica."
"Erotica?"
"Of the wildly inaccurate BDSM sort."
That cast their conversation in an entirely new light. Lewis gave Hathaway a bemused look. "She thought you were me submissive?"
"Sir…" The minute the word was out of Hathaway's mouth, he turned two shades brighter.
"I started out in vice, man. I'm not easily embarrassed," Lewis told him.
Hathaway nodded, but he just as clearly was. "Would you rather I didn't call you sir?"
"I don't care what you call me," Lewis said. "Whatever Lyn thinks of it is her business, not ours."
Hathaway closed his book and picked up his contact lens case, taking his lenses out of his eyes.
Lewis shuddered. "I'll never understand how you can do that."
Hathaway glanced at him. "You look at corpses and contact lenses bother you?"
"Well, I don't put corpses in my eyes, do I?"
Hathaway grimaced. "I certainly hope not." He turned the light off and wriggled beneath the covers.
Lewis yawned. "Goodnight, James."
"Goodnight…Robbie."
Even in the dark, Lewis smiled.
***
Tim looked at Lyn, aghast. "You asked your dad what?"
"You and I work together. You never call me sir," Lyn said.
"Not yet. I could do."
"It just seemed unusual. That's all."
"You did see how formal James is?" Tim asked.
Lyn shook her head. "You had more chances to talk to him than I did."
"If we'd told him to sleep on the roof, he would've said thanks very much and felt as if he were imposing asking for a brolly if it rained," Tim said. "Honestly, I'd like to get him on a massage table."
"Dad might object," Lyn said wryly.
"And so might you," Tim said, kissing her, "and I only meant I could get rid of some of that tension he's carrying about with him."
"Is it my turn to remind you what Dad always says?"
Lyn and Tim said it together. "Just because you work in medicine doesn't mean it's your job to fix me."
"Fair point," Tim conceded. "They seem happy though."
Lyn smiled. "They do. Was James shocked when we put them in the one bed?"
Tim nodded, chuckling a bit. "I don't think he expected us to be so openminded."
"My dad's a healthy adult. I can accept he has a sex life," Lyn said. "Even if I don't want to think about it."
"And yet you asked him if he was into BDSM."
"Don't remind me," Lyn said. "If I could take it back, I would."
Tim slipped an arm round her. "I think it's sweet you care so much."
"Sometimes I think it might be better if I cared a little less," Lyn said.
"At least we know we're not the only ones now," Tim said. "When we're not there, James'll care for your dad."
Lyn smiled. "You're right. That does make me feel better." She kissed him. "Fancy a bit of therapeutic massage?"
Tim grinned. "Oh, always."
***
When Hathaway woke in the middle of the night, he was surprised how well he and Lewis had kept to their own spaces. He closed his eyes, fully intending to go back to sleep, but then he felt Lewis stir beside him. He rolled over to see if Lewis was awake.
Lewis wasn't, and he didn't look happy either. He was curled up, hugging himself for comfort, his forehead set in worried lines. Awake, Lewis seemed to take up a good deal of space in a room, but alone in bed like that, he looked very lost and very small.
Lewis murmured something unintelligible, twitching in his sleep, and it was clear he was having a bad dream. Unusually for him, Hathaway didn't think about what to do next. He simply bridged the gap between them, drawing Lewis into his arms. Lewis relaxed at the touch, arms looping sleepily round Hathaway. He said something incoherent but affectionate and kissed Hathaway's shoulder before drifting into a deeper sleep, a sleep with no nightmares.
Hathaway closed his eyes, soaking in the comfort of the touch. He'd had a few relationships, but somehow, there had never seemed to be time for this, time for quietness and affection. And there were times when he would've liked to have it.
Not that you could ask for something like that. If life didn't kick emotional openness out of you, public school would. Hathaway knew of no other system so fully dedicated to hiding the brokenness it caused. At school, you could only be yourself in the dark, where no one could see, and even then only in your own mind, where whatever you thought or felt wouldn't bring any attention or criticism from others.
Lewis wouldn't have held him like this under normal circumstances. The only other time Hathaway had tried overtly affectionate touch with him, Lewis had jerked his hand away from being held so quickly that it was as if he'd been burnt. That was the moment Hathaway had known where he stood with Lewis, that unwillingness to even play at flirting, that refusal of touch, that look of disgust on his face. Just one more person to hide from in a world of them.
But not tonight. Tonight Hathaway could pretend Lewis knew it was him and still wanted to hold him, that this would be one of many nights instead of a single night Hathaway would commit to memory and then recall till the edges ran ragged. Hathaway could pretend there was love here, and that it belonged to him. And he was going to.
He fell asleep more easily than he had done in years.
***
Lewis woke to find sunlight shining in his eyes. It surprised him, not least because he hadn't slept past sunrise for a good long time. He stretched a bit, feeling extraordinarily comfortable, and then he looked to Hathaway's side of the bed.
Hathaway was reading, but he set down his book and smiled at Lewis. "Good morning."
"How late did I sleep?" Lewis asked, yawning a bit.
Hathaway checked his watch. "It's nine o'clock."
"Nine o'clock!" Lewis shook his head. "How long have you been up?"
"A while," Hathaway said vaguely.
That meant hours. "You could've got dressed and things."
"I didn't want to wake you," Hathaway said, looking oddly regretful for a moment.
Lewis shook his head. "I'm a sound sleeper, me."
A small smile played at the corners of Hathaway's mouth. "So I noticed."
"Eh?"
Hathaway blushed just a bit. "The pages turning didn't bother you."
"Oh," Lewis said. He pushed himself into a seated position. "Funny. I haven't slept so well in a long time."
"Being home, maybe," Hathaway suggested.
Lewis snorted. "This isn't my home."
"No, but your family's here."
Lewis nodded. "Maybe." He didn't think that was it, though. He'd been here many times before and had never relaxed like this. "Suppose they've got breakfast on?"
Hathaway folded his book closed. "Let's see."
They padded downstairs in their socks to find Lyn at the breakfast table.
"Morning, sleepyheads," she said with a grin. "You just missed Tim and Daisy. They've popped down to the shops."
"Sorry about that," Lewis said. "Blame me. I was sleeping so soundly James didn't want to wake me."
Lyn fought back a smile. "Yes, I'm sure that was it."
"Is this another one of those Fifty Shades of Grey things?" Lewis asked.
Lyn froze, aghast, and Lewis enjoyed being the one to stymie her for a moment. He inclined his head toward Hathaway, whose expression had gone unreadable. "He explained it to me."
"Oh," Lyn said, clearly not sure what else to say.
Lewis tapped Hathaway on the shoulder. "Come on, submissive. Let's get breakfast."
Hathaway looked at Lewis, then Lyn, then followed Lewis into the kitchen without a word.
Lewis smiled to himself. He could feel Lyn gaping after them.
***
Hathaway supposed the thing that surprised him most was what Lewis hadn't done--namely, deny they were a couple. He told himself it didn't mean anything, but still, he'd always been the one to make comments about dating or otherwise being with Lewis. Lewis had never reciprocated.
Lewis was probably doing it to get a reaction from Lyn. Hathaway knew that, and yet, it felt dangerous. Because if he responded, it wouldn't be pretending, and it was bad if Lewis didn't know that and worse if he did.
Hathaway decided he'd follow Lewis's lead but not contribute anything extra. Anything else might give away too much.
***
"Everyone into the living room," Tim called after dinner that night.
Hathaway turned to Lewis. "Is this some bizarre ritual I'm not aware of?"
Lewis chuckled. "The Snowman's on telly tonight. We watch it every year. Have done since the kids were small."
"Oh," Hathaway said. "Maybe I should do the dishes."
"The dishes will wait," Lewis said, exasperated. "Come spend time with the family."
Hathaway looked hesitant, but nodded. "All right."
Somehow they all managed to cram onto the sofa, Daisy on Lyn's lap, as the programme came on. Lewis liked this one, maybe because it fit his own view of the holiday--celebration, but melancholy too.
Hathaway frowned as the programme began. "I thought David Bowie was in this."
"He was," Lyn said. "They changed the beginning a few years ago."
Hathaway made a slightly disgruntled sound.
"I'm with you, mate," Tim said sympathetically. "No need to change things that are already good."
"Ssh," Lewis said, though he didn't shush them very loudly. Really, there was no reason they couldn't talk through the programme; after the introduction, it had no dialogue. That had been good when the kids were young; they could chatter away without missing any of the story. Lewis could picture the other living room, in another time with other people in it, and it made his heart hurt a little.
Out of nowhere, Hathaway's hand rested gently on his shoulder. Lewis glanced at Hathaway, who looked noncommittal, but…he knew. Of course he knew. Lewis reached over with his right hand, patting Hathaway's hand in a silent gesture of thanks, leaving his hand on top of Hathaway's for a little bit.
Daisy understood the story better this year, though she didn't particularly notice the ending. After it was over, her parents took her to bed as she described to them how she was going to fly with a snowman and meet Father Christmas this year.
Lewis turned to say something to Hathaway, but Hathaway was staring straight ahead, mouth working as it did when he was emotionally stirred and wanted to get hold of himself.
Not for the first time, Lewis wondered what Hathaway was thinking about. Had the story upset him? Did it remind him of something else sad? Was he feeling lonely? It was no good asking. Hathaway would never tell, even if he knew the answer.
Lewis reached out tentatively, resting a hand on Hathaway's upper back. He didn't expect any response and he didn't know exactly how long to keep his hand where it was before it would become unwanted, but words wouldn't work and touch would. He could see that plain enough.
Hathaway scooted away from Lewis, and Lewis was just about to withdraw his hand when Hathaway leaned to one side, bending down to rest his head on Lewis's shoulder.
The intimacy of the touch nearly stopped Lewis breathing for a moment, and he had his arm firmly round Hathaway's shoulder before he could think what to do next. Someone needed him again, and Lewis hadn't known until now how badly he'd wanted that. Hathaway needed support, needed comfort, and he was asking Lewis to help the only way he knew how.
Lewis rubbed his hand gently up and down Hathaway's arm, wondering what else he could do. It was as though all the dammed-up nurturing and gentleness he hadn't had an outlet for was suddenly flowing free, and he was desperate to use it, to lavish it on someone. No, not on someone. On Hathaway. Please, he thought, just stay here, stay like this. He had so missed having someone to care for.
Before Lewis could decide what to do about how he felt, Tim came back into the living room, then turned round and walked out again so as not to interrupt them. Lewis knew Hathaway would notice, even as he hoped he wouldn't. If Hathaway would just stay where he was, Lewis would eventually know what to say.
"I think I'll turn in early," Hathaway said, pulling away from the embrace. "Father Christmas won't come if I'm not asleep."
"James," Lewis said, trying desperately to salvage something, to think of something clever or perfect to say.
Hathaway turned to him, expression curious.
But words had never been Lewis's strongest point, and he couldn't find them now. "Goodnight."
It was as though blinds had closed somewhere behind Hathaway's eyes. "Goodnight."
***
Hathaway knew it was the coward's way out, but he pretended to be asleep when Lewis came in to bed. Lewis very kindly kept the lights off, although he did stumble into the bureau once and let out a quiet expletive that almost made Hathaway laugh.
Finally, Lewis climbed into bed, and Hathaway exhaled. Good. There wouldn't be any talking tonight. He wouldn't have to explain, and tomorrow…tomorrow it would be as though it hadn't happened.
He heard the bedsprings squeak as Lewis slid across to him, and then he felt a soft kiss on his forehead, and gentle fingers brushing his hair.
"Night, James," Lewis whispered, beginning to move back.
Hathaway opened his eyes and caught Lewis's hand, silently asking him not to move away. For a moment, they looked at each other, both trying to work out what to do next. Then Hathaway tugged on Lewis's hand, and Lewis moved closer, running a hand along Hathaway's arm as he'd done several hours before. He meant it. Hathaway almost couldn't believe it, but…Lewis meant it.
Hathaway pulled Lewis closer, into his arms, and held on tight.
***
Lewis was awakened the next morning by being kissed, which was a very agreeable way to wake up. He opened his eyes to see Hathaway smiling at him.
"Happy Christmas," Hathaway said.
"Yes, it is," Lewis agreed, moving in for another kiss so quickly he made Hathaway laugh.
"They'll be waiting for us downstairs," Hathaway said, playing with the sleeve of Lewis's T-shirt.
"Let them wait," Lewis said softly. "I want to enjoy this."
Hathaway smiled again. Lewis had never seen him so happy.
"Does this mean I am your submissive, sir?" Hathaway asked, expression a bit wicked.
"There'll be time enough to get into my kinks, if you're interested," Lewis said.
"I am. Very."
Lewis smiled, running his fingers along Hathaway's jawline. "Do you have to shave while we're here? I like getting to see you a bit…untidy."
"I think I could forego it for a few days," Hathaway said. "I've never seen you scruffy either."
"Oh, I can grow a proper beard when I set me mind to it," Lewis said.
Hathaway smiled. "Should I encourage you?"
"I'll have a go while we're on holiday and you can see if you like it," Lewis said.
Hathaway rested their foreheads together. "We're really doing this, aren't we?"
"Course we are. Did you think I was joking?" Lewis said.
Hathaway was silent.
Words again, always getting in the way. Lewis brushed his fingers gently across Hathaway's cheek, moving in and giving Hathaway a kiss that would leave no doubt about how he felt. When they pulled apart, Hathaway ducked his head, making a bashful little laughing sound. Lewis smiled, satisfied that question was permanently sorted. Hathaway snuggled closer, pressing an affectionate kiss to Lewis's chin.
Happy Christmas indeed.