“...If they’d cooked the
sprouts any longer, they would have been algae.” “You know what Christmas lunch
in the canteen is like, it’s the same every year!” It’s no defence but these
contradictions between Nick’s Christmas whining and
his actions have been confusing him for days. Nick just shrugs and picks up
the papers from his desk, the ones he was reading
before dragging Stephen to the university canteen to
join in the festivities with the rest of the staff
before they broke for the holidays. Dropping the papers back to
his desk, Nick shrugs. “Mince
pies, whisky and The Great Escape?”
The pom-pom falls into his face again and this
time Stephen is in time to lift it away, dropping it
to the back of his head, unable to resist the urge to
slide his hand over the furry white band at the base
of the hat and his fingers into the hair at the back
of his neck. Nick grins.
“That depends, have you been naughty or nice?” Dropping his head back, Nick
laughs; that wonderful rich sound that makes Stephen
think of mince pies, brandy butter and blowjobs. He shakes his head. “Sorry.” Nick groans.
“Santa’s definitely going to be coming early if
you keep that up.” |