It was the stranger who looked away first this time. He glanced up at the flight numbers and after a moment he let out a sight, settling deeper into his seat.

"Is your fight delayed too?"

Simon nodded.

"Well, I think we're in for a bit of a wait. I heard on the radio as I was coming in that we're supposed to get freezing rain for another couple hours."

Just perfect. Figures he wants to talk right when it feels like I've swallowed the entire desert and then some.

Simon swallowed a couple of times, trying to force something witty to come out. His mind scrambled for something pithy to say; something smart and effortless.

"My radio is green."

My radio is green? MY RADIO IS GREEN?! I'm an English major and the best damned thing I can come up with is "My radio is green?"

Simon closed his eyes and wondered if there was enough space in his suitcase for him to climb in and zip it up. Or maybe the women with the half-ton suitcase can come back and finish him off this time.

He saw the man's eyebrows rise as he bit the barest fraction of his bottom lip.

"Good on you, mate." The man cheek quirked and Simon just knew that the man was simply dying to have a good laugh.

Simon cleared his throat. "What I meant to say was that my radio said the rain was supposed to be over by now."

The stranger grinned at him. "Mmm, yes. Did your radio also tell you that the rain was going to be green?"

"Shut up," Simon laughed. He felt something akin to butterflies bump flutter around the confines of his stomach. His stomach grumbled loudly.

Then again, maybe he was just hungry.

He wished he would have packed the sandwich that was sitting at home, all alone, in his fridge. His fingers toyed with the corner of his book as he lamented in the fact that even water was going to be a couple dozen pounds at the airport.

The stranger leant down and pulled out his passport and he dug around in his carry-on. He pulled out a bag of crisps and an apple before stuck his passport back. Simon was fairly certain he was seconds away from drooling all over himself. He could almost taste the salt on his tongue, the way the crisp would crunch between his teeth and the taste would coat the inside of his mouth.

The man opened the bag and laid the apple in his lap. He slowly crossed his legs, turning himself to face Simon better and stuck out the opened bag. "Well? Go ahead," he said when Simon didn't move. "I'm pretty sure those people over there on the other tarmac heard that monster in your stomach."

Simon flushed but he reached over into the bag and took a crisp.

"Now it's time for you to pay up," the man said when Simon was done chewing.

Pay up?

The man smiled and Simon swallowed again, despite the fact that he had long since swallowed any remnants of the chip.

"I'm not in the habit of sharing my crisps with people when I don't know their names."

Oh.

"I'm Simon. Erm and your name is?"

The stranger reached into his bag and dug out a crisp. "I'm Baz."

Baz. I haven't heard that one before.

"It's short for Basilton." His eyebrows quirked. "Obviously you can see why I prefer Baz."

Simon huffed a laugh and Baz smiled.

"So, Simon, where are you heading?"

"Just over to Surrey to have Christmas dinner with a friend of mine."

"Surrey," Baz said as he held the bag out to Simon. "That's a ways to go for a dinner. She must be pretty important."

"She's my best friend," Simon said between chews. "What about you, where are you traveling to?" Simon wished he could hit himself over the head with apple in Baz's lap because he knew very well that Baz was on his way to one of his girlfriend's house. One of his many girlfriends, heavy emphasis on the word girl.

"It's off to Christmas dinner for me as well. Everyone's meeting at my sister's so it's bound to get a little crazy. My family's the posh types that doesn't use words to argue but rather shoots laser beams out of their eyes across the dinner table." Baz laughed. "I swear, sometimes the crossfire is the only thing that cooks the duck completely."

Simon laughed along but a tiny corner of his heart ached – the same corner he tries to board up around this time every year.

"I bet your parents are the type that can't wait to get you back from university and smother you with food until you have to punch new holes into your belt," Baz continues.

The little part in Simon's heart throbbed a little harder.

"Actually, my parents passed away when I was young."

There was a silence that probably felt longer to Simon than in actually was. He wasn't exactly sure why he told a random stranger about his situation but now he felt embarrassed at disclosing so much about himself. He was about to say something to change the subject when Baz spoke up.

"I'm sorry, mate. I lost my mum when I was young as well."

Simon looked at Baz but Baz picked up the apple and was fiddling with it.

"Well this just got a little depressing," Simon stated, trying to regain his footing after being knocked sideways.

Baz gave the apple a small smile. "I guess the holidays will do that to you."

Simon looked at Baz and he knew that he somehow understood. That he wasn't the only one who swallowed hard when he saw a Christmas catalogue with the mum and dad and kids sitting around the table, laughing. That he wasn't the only one who starred a little too long at the family sitting in front of him. That he wasn't the only one who had to look away when he saw his neighbour wrap her young son a huge hug when he learned to ride his bike with trainers.

"So," Simon said, trying to rerail the conversation, "did you actually remember all your presents or are you going to be disappointing some hearts?"

Baz closed his eyes and laughed. "I knew you were listening in on my conversation." He turned to shoot Simon a look.

Simon shrugged, smiling. "It's not as if I could not hear you. With you draped all over my armrest, your conversation was practically spilling over to me."

Baz chortled. "The armrest again. So that's what's got your knickers in a knot. I took your armrest so you felt it was your duty to eavesdrop. Is that some unspoken rule from where you come from?"

Simon rolled his eyes. "We're both English, and we're in the same airport. We come from the same place, you dolt."

"Obviously I come from a more refined part of England."

Simon snorted. "Sure, pardon me, your lordship. I am but a meager villager and I must pale next to you with your pressed pants and four girlfriends."

Baz's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline.

"My four what?"

Simon shifted in his seat. "You know, your girlfriends," Simon said somewhat awkwardly. "The ones you're bringing presents for."

Baz frowned for a moment before he smiled widely, his eyes dancing. "Oh, you mean Andrea, Elizabeth, Dawn and Pemberly?"

"Sure," Simon said. He was starting to waver under Baz's gaze.

Baz laughed. "They're my nieces, Simon. I'm going to my sister's to have Christmas dinner with her, her husband and their kids."

Simon wanted to melt into the crack in the carpet and disappear from view.

"Four girlfriends though," Baz continued, "that sounds like awful lot of work. That would require a timetable to keep everything running smoothly. Then the one time that one of them leaves a shirt over at your place the whole gig is up. No, I don't think I'd do that even if I was the type to date girls. I'm too lazy to work all that out."

...even if I was the type to date girls.

Okay lungs, don't fail me now. Sure, there's a devastatingly attractive man sitting next to you and beat the one in ten odds and is actually gay. Sure he's sarcastic enough to burn a hole in the carpet and he smells like something spicy and good and maybe I can just lean over and take a closer whiff but no. Stop. Focus, Simon. Time to say something before he thinks you're some weirdo who's caught up in him declaring that he's gay. Oh but you are, and for all the right reasons too.

Simon felt the flush start spreading up his neck from the pressure of trying to come up with something to say while Baz looked on.

He stood up and placed his book on his seat. "I need to use the washroom. Would you mind?" Simon asked, looking pointedly at his luggage.

"Yeah, sure. No problem, I'll watch your stuff," Baz said, albeit a little confused.

Simon dashed over to the washroom down the corridor and waited in line for a stall.

What he must think with me jumping up and almost running away. Jesus, I pretty much ran away. Simon wanted to knock his head against the tiled wall in the hopes that maybe some dormant part of his brain would sputter to life and he'd act like a normal human being.

He walked over to the stall after a man walked out and he turned and slipped the lock into place. And that's when the thought hit him.

I just left my stuff with a stranger.

Simon finished up fast and popped out to wash his hands. He was just wiping his hands when the voice over the intercom announced a list of gates that were now open and beginning to board.

He walked quickly over to his seat and was relieved when he saw Baz and his luggage still there. Baz was standing, the handle of his carry-on in hand, scanning the people walking past. He lifted his hand when he saw Simon.

"Hey, they just opened my gate," Simon said, grabbing his book and exchanging it in his bag for his passport and boarding pass.

"Mine too," Baz said.

Simon grabbed the handle of his luggage. "Oh good, let's go then."

Simon started towards his gate only to find that Baz wasn't beside him. He stopped and looked back to see that Baz was right where he'd left him.

Simon quirked his head. "Aren't you coming?"

"We're not on the same flight."

Oh.

Simon towed his stuff back slowly. "I figured we were on the same flight." He smiled weakly.

"I knew we weren't when you said that you were on your way to Surrey."

Simon shuffled. "Well, it's been nice chatting with you Baz."

Baz smiled. "Same goes double for me."

Simon was at a loss of what to say, his English major poking through again. "Merry Christmas then."

"Merry Christmas, Simon. Hopefully your New Year will have some happy surprises." Baz smiled once more before turning and pulling his carry-on after him.

Simon walked over to his own gate, laughing lightly at all the thoughts of running through the airport until he found Baz that kept running through his mind.

"Passport, sir"

Simon handed his passport into the attendant's waiting hands.

The plane had just taken off when Simon pulled out his book. He opened his book to his bookmark and was surprised when a piece of folded white paper fluttered into his lap.

He unfolded the paper.

Simon,

I don't know how long you'll be in the loo so I'll make this quick. I never thought I'd be so happy to have my flight delayed. Forgive me if I misread this, but I think that you are someone I'd want to know better. Someone I'd like to see every day. God, I can't believe I'm doing this, I never do this. You must believe me, I don't come to airports and deliberately sit beside adorable guys with laugh-softened eyes. You must think I'm a twat. Forgive me.

Baz

P.S. Beepitch (Just in case you don't think I'm a twat...)

A bit of a late Christmas present. Thanks to all of you for reading! Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and Happy Holiday. :)