Sunday 25th of December—Christmas Day

Patrick woke to a warm body pressed up against his and soft breath tickling his shoulder. A surge of that unfamiliar feeling from yesterday swept through him again before he recognised it and tamped it down fiercely.

He had no business feeling happy about waking up naked next to Kyle. Satisfied maybe, amused at the twist that had brought them to this new and unexpected facet in their relationship. But to feel happy about it was dangerous, because whatever was going on between him and Kyle would only ever be a fleeting thing.

Kyle had made it very clear he wasn’t interested in committed relationships, and Patrick didn’t want casual sex. If that was all this was going to be then it had to stop soon, because Patrick was afraid of developing feelings for Kyle now he was getting to know him in new and different ways.

Stirring, Kyle shuffled closer to Patrick, and rested his head in the crook of his armpit. He mumbled something unintelligible. Unsure whether he was talking in his sleep or waking up, Patrick whispered, “Good morning.”

“Mmph.”

Remembering what day it was, Patrick said next, “Happy Christmas.”

Lifting his head, Kyle gave him a bleary smile. “Oh yeah. Happy Christmas to you too.”

Patrick was trying to decide whether to kiss him or not, when Kyle let his head drop back down and he closed his eyes again. Patrick put his arm around him and they lay in silence for a while, before Kyle asked, “What time is it?”

“No clue.” Patrick raised his head and squinted at the curtains, there was light creeping in around the edges so it couldn’t be very early. “Pass my phone?”

Kyle made a grunt of protest, but he stretched out a hand to get Patrick’s phone from the shelf by the bed.

“Shit!” Patrick exclaimed. “It’s quarter past ten already.”

“Really?” Kyle finally opened his eyes properly for the first time that morning. “Wow. I never sleep that late. I must have been extra knackered last night.” He gave Patrick a dirty grin. “I can’t think why.” Patrick chuckled. “Maybe you could remind me?” Kyle added hopefully.

Possibility hung thick in the air between them for a moment. But Patrick shook his head and said reluctantly, “We ought to get up. We told Mrs W we’d be over by eleven, and we probably both stink of sex so we need to shower.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Get off me then.” Patrick shifted. “I can’t get up with you half on top of me.”

Sniffing Patrick’s armpit, Kyle wrinkled his nose. “You do smell. You can have first shower while I have five more minutes of being lazy.”

“Cheeky!” Patrick shoved him off. Kyle chuckled and rolled onto his front, so Patrick gave his bare arse a sharp slap.

Kyle yelped. “Ouch. You brute.”

“You love it.”

“Hmmm.” With his face buried in the pillow, it was hard to tell if Kyle was agreeing or not.

Patrick gave his butt an apologetic pat, and pulled the covers back over him. “Five minutes, and then you have to get up.”

In the shower, Patrick found himself whistling “Jingle Bells”. The teasing banter in bed hadn’t helped him keep a lid on his feelings. Happiness and excitement were simmering in his belly and he had to keep reminding himself that this was only a Christmas fling.

As he got out, he called through to Kyle, “Shower’s free. Get up, lazy bones.”

By the time Patrick was dry there was still no sign of him. Wrapping a towel around his waist, Patrick went through and reached over the edge of the platform bed to poke Kyle’s motionless form. “Come on, or we’ll be late.” No response, so Patrick yanked the covers right off Kyle and slapped him on the arse again. “Shower time.”

“Ow. Stop it. My bum needs a break. It’s still sore from last night.”

It did look quite pink. Patrick felt simultaneously guilty and slightly aroused at the sight of it. “Okay, sorry. Oh! That reminds me. We need to exchange our Christmas gifts.”

“Ooh, yes. Presents!” Kyle rolled over and sat up, looking excited at the thought. “Can we do it now?”

“No. After you’ve showered. Now hurry up!”

Patrick made them both tea and some toast and jam while Kyle showered. When he finally emerged from the bathroom in underwear and a T-shirt, Patrick offered him a plateful. “It might be a bit cold now, but I thought you’d be hungry given that we slept in.”

“Thanks. I’m starving.”

Once Kyle finished eating, Patrick said, “Right—presents?”

They both went to rummage in their bags. Patrick had managed to wrap his in a piece of newspaper while Kyle was in the bathroom yesterday. He didn’t have any tape, but had twisted the ends to make it look like a Christmas cracker. “Here’s yours.” He held it out to Kyle who was hiding something behind his back.

“Oh, nice wrapping. I didn’t think of that. Can I do it quickly now with a piece of your paper?”

“Sure. Just don’t use the crossword.”

“Turn around then, or close your eyes or something.”

Patrick shut his eyes obediently and waited.

A few rustling sounds, and then Kyle said, “Okay. Done.”

Opening his eyes, Patrick saw Kyle standing in front of him, holding a similar-looking parcel to the one in Patrick’s hands.

“Merry Christmas,” they said in unison as they swapped gifts.

Patrick untwisted the paper and let it fall open. There was a slab of Kendal Mint Cake and a decorated wooden spoon with a picture of a hill and a lake on it, beneath the picture were the words: The Lake District. It was a typical tourist gift. The mint cake was great food for hiking, so Patrick would definitely use that. He wasn’t so sure about the wooden spoon, but it wasn’t as if Kyle had had much choice of suitable gifts in Mike’s shop.

“Thanks.” He looked up to see Kyle holding the tube of aloe gel and the Chocolate Orange Patrick had bought him.

“Thanks to you too. I love Chocolate Orange.” Kyle held up the gel. “But what’s this for exactly?”

“Well, I’m sure I read somewhere that it’s good for soothing sore skin. Like sunburn, or….” Patrick waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh!” Kyle’s cheeks turned pink. “Yes. I expect it will feel nice on that.” He paused, and then grinned. “Are you going to put some on for me?”

With a chuckle, Patrick said, “I guess so. It would be rude not to.”

Kyle passed the tube to Patrick and turned his back on him, tugging his underwear down to expose his arse. It was still pink in patches and the sight of it made Patrick’s dick tingle and swell. Swallowing hard, Patrick squeezed some of the cold gel into his palm then rubbed it gently into Kyle’s skin.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” Kyle said. Then he laughed. “What a coincidence.”

“What?” Patrick drew his hand away a little reluctantly. The gel had been absorbed, so he was out of excuses for groping Kyle’s adorable bum.

“That both our presents relate to spanking.” He pulled his pants back up. Patrick stared at him, still not getting it. “Well, you know how you told me that it hurt you the first time we did it? I thought maybe the spoon would help save your delicate hands.”

“Aha!” Understanding dawned and Patrick picked up the spoon and studied it in a whole new light. “Yes. It might work very well.”

He wondered when he’d get a chance to try it. Maybe later if Kyle’s arse wasn’t too sore. Otherwise tomorrow. That would probably be their last day here, because chances were they’d be able to get the car fixed or towed out on the twenty-seventh. Patrick’s heart sank at that realisation. He wasn’t ready for this to be over so soon.

“Are you okay?” Kyle was studying him carefully.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. I was just miles away for a minute there. Right,” Patrick said briskly. “We’d better get over to Mrs W’s to start making lunch.”

Mrs Wilcox’s kitchen was warm and cosy as they sat at her table preparing vegetables. The log burner in the living room fed heat into this room too and she’d had the fire going since early that morning. Carols were playing through the CD player and they each had a glass of sherry in front of them.

“This is going to be a feast,” Mrs Wilcox said as she slowly chopped cabbage into strips.

“Yes. I don’t think I’ll really miss the turkey at all,” Patrick said.

They’d pooled their resources to come up with a menu for Christmas lunch. None of them had anything even close to turkey, but Mrs Wilcox had sausages, bacon, potatoes, cabbage, carrots, and gravy granules. So they’d wrapped the bacon around the sausages to make pigs in blankets and were going to roast the potatoes. The cabbage and carrots would go on the side.

Dessert would be a chocolate log—purchased by Kyle. Then after that they could have Patrick’s cheese and crackers, washed down with port. That was all bases covered as far as Patrick was concerned. He’d never been very bothered about Christmas pudding.

Pausing in his potato peeling, Patrick took a sip of sherry. The alcohol was already sending tendrils of warmth through him. Sitting back in his chair, he watched Kyle, face intent with concentration as he wrapped bacon around the sausages.

A rush of happiness made Patrick’s heart lift. He’d been expecting Christmas to be a miserable affair this year, spending it alone, and binge-watching Netflix to keep memories of happier Christmases at bay. But here, in a cottage in the middle of nowhere with an old lady who had been a stranger till two days ago, and a colleague who he normally couldn’t stand, Patrick realised he was happier than he’d been in a long time.

A piece of potato peel hit him in the face. “Oi!” he exclaimed, jerking his head around to see Kyle grinning at him.

“Come on, you slacker. You’re letting me and Mrs W do all the work while you drink all the sherry. Lazy.”

“I stopped for thirty seconds,” Patrick protested, in mock outrage.

“Well break time’s up. Chop chop.”

Mrs Wilcox chuckled, watching their exchange.

Muttering, Patrick went back to peeling.

They ate lunch around the table in the kitchen. Mrs Wilcox lit some candles and with the main light turned off and the string of fairy lights over the archway it looked pretty and festive. The food was excellent. Delicious meaty sausages and bacon went perfectly with crispy roast potatoes—prepared under Mrs Wilcox’s instructions—and the vegetables and gravy finished it off to a tee. Patrick opened a bottle of red wine with lunch and they shared it between them.

Once the main course was done, Kyle and Patrick insisted on clearing away and wouldn’t let Mrs Wilcox help. “No, you stay put. We’ve got this,” Kyle said.

“All right. If you insist.”

“Are you ready for some chocolate log?” Kyle asked.

“Just a tiny piece for me,” she said. “I’m full already.”

“There’s still cheese to go,” Patrick reminded her.

“I won’t need to eat again till New Year’s Day at this rate.” She patted her stomach.

Kyle cut up the yule log, while Patrick made a pot of tea. Mrs Wilcox got a small piece, as requested, but the ones Kyle served himself and Patrick were huge. After they were done with that, even Patrick had to admit he didn’t have room for cheese.

“Not yet, but later. I’ll let this settle first.” There was no way Patrick was missing out on cheese and crackers.

“Shall we go and sit in the living room now?” Mrs Wilcox suggested. “Maybe watch a bit of telly while we let our food go down?”

That sounded nice and relaxing to Patrick, so he agreed readily.

“I might do a bit of washing up first, and then I’ll join you,” Kyle said.

“Oh, leave that. We can do it later.” Mrs Wilcox got to her feet.

“I don’t mind. I like tidying up.” Kyle grinned. “Just ask Patrick. I’m always annoying him by rearranging his desk.”

Patrick snorted. It was true. Kyle’s tendency for neatness extended to other people’s belongings as well as his own. It had been a bone of contention between them more than once.

“Oops.” Mrs Wilcox stumbled, grabbing the edge of the table for support. “That’s a bit more alcohol than I normally have. It’s gone to my legs.”

“Let me.” Patrick hurried to her side, handing her stick, and offering his arm too. He started guiding her to the doorway. “I’ll come back and help in a minute, Kyle.”

“No need. It won’t take me long. I’ll just do as much as I can fit in the rack now and then I’ll let that dry. We can do more later.”

Keen to put his feet up, Patrick wasn’t going to argue. So once he’d installed Mrs Wilcox in her chair by the fire, he added a couple of fresh logs to the burner, and made himself comfortable on the couch.

“Anything you want to watch?” Mrs Wilcox asked.

“No, anything’s fine.” Sleepy and full of food, Patrick was happy with whatever she picked.

She hopped through a couple of channels and stopped on something that was instantly recognisable as The Sound of Music. “Oh, this’ll do.”

“It’s a Christmas classic,” Patrick agreed. He’d lost count of how many times he’d watched it over the years.

They sat for a while, lost in the charm of the old film, until a clattering sound from the kitchen reminded Patrick that Kyle was still busy in there.

Mrs Wilcox glanced across. “He’s been a while.”

“Knowing Kyle he’s got carried away doing far more than he said he would. You’ll probably get back in there and find your kitchen has been reorganised.” Patrick rolled his eyes, remembering the time Kyle decided to revamp Patrick’s filing system. “He can’t help himself. Once he gets started on something he tends to get a bit carried away. Best if we leave him to it.”

She chuckled. “You two are funny.”

“How so?” Patrick asked in surprise.

“The way you tease each other. You remind me of an old married couple. Have you been together long?”

Taken aback, Patrick stared at her. She knew they were colleagues, and he’d assumed she’d think they were straight. Most people, especially of her generation, didn’t usually consider that someone might be gay unless it was completely obvious. Tracking back, he tried to remember if they’d shown any signs of affection in her presence. But no. They’d barely touched each other outside of sex—unless Patrick was holding Kyle up to stop him falling in the snow. So why on earth would she think they were a couple?

“I’m sorry. Did I speak out of turn? Maybe I’m mistaken. But it seems like you’re sweet on each other.”

The old-fashioned expression was charming, and amusingly innocent considering the nature of Patrick and Kyle’s relationship.

“No,” Patrick hurried to reassure her. “No, it’s fine. And you’re not completely off the mark. But we’re not really together, not in any serious way.”

She studied him, beady eyes like currants in her wrinkled face. “But there’s something between you.”

“Yes.” A blush crept over Patrick’s cheeks that he couldn’t blame on the wine or the warmth of the fire. “There’s definitely something, but I don’t think it’s going to last.”

“Why not?”

“We’re too different, and we want different things.”

She shrugged. “Well, sometimes what people want changes. I should know.”

“Why’s that?”

“I never wanted to get married. I thought that was for other girls, not for me. I didn’t want to cook and clean, and have babies. I wanted to train sheepdogs and not have to answer to a man.”

“So what happened?”

“I met the right man. He was happy for me to follow my dreams. We kept on top of the housework together and I worked with the dogs with John in a shawl. My grandmother was Scottish and she showed me how to carry him that way.” She smiled at the recollection, lost in memories for a moment. Then she seemed to snap back to the present. “Anyway, all I’m saying is people change. Priorities change. I’ve seen the way that young man looks at you when you don’t know he’s watching. So don’t give up hoping.”

Kyle walked in as she was speaking. “Hoping for what?” he asked.

“Nothing important,” Patrick said quickly. “What happened to you? I thought you’d got washed down the plughole.”

“I was cleaning the top of the cooker, and then by the time I’d done that the dishes were nearly dry. So I put those away and did another load. I tidied up your cupboards a bit too.”

“Told you.” Patrick grinned at Mrs Wilcox.

“Told her what?” Kyle looked suspicious.

“That you’re a neat freak and can’t resist interfering with other people’s stuff.” Patrick’s tone was teasing. This was nothing like the bitter sniping they used to engage in.

Kyle joined in, rolling his eyes and saying, “Only because you’re a messy disaster. You need someone to tidy up after you.”

Mrs Wilcox laughed and said to Patrick, “Don’t complain. There’s nothing wrong with a man who likes washing up and keeping things tidy. Thank you, dear,” she said to Kyle. “Now sit down and relax for a while.”

“Yes ma’am.” Kyle sank onto the couch next to Patrick. It was a small two-seater and would be ideal for cuddling on. As it was, they sat without touching and Patrick itched to move a little closer and put a hand on Kyle’s leg or take his hand. Mrs Wilcox’s words of advice were still ringing in his head.

Don’t give up hoping.

Maybe it was time for Patrick to be brave and ask Kyle where he saw this going. If it was definitely just a Christmas fling for Kyle it would be better to know. Stomach fluttering with anxiety at the thought, Patrick decided to try to find the time and the courage to ask.