The Gas Man and the Pizza Delivery Boy

Disclaimer: I do not own Syed Masood or Christian Clarke (sadly ;-), they would be on screen now if I did...or maybe round at my house x

Chapter 1 - 'Christian's Flu'

"Sy...I'm gonna die soon if you don't get a move on with that water", Christian groaned, prising his eyes open in an attempt to locate his absent boyfriend. He thought about chancing a request of some breakfast and a copy of the latest issue of Attitude but he had already been using Syed as his personal slave and doctor for the past few days, and on seeing the look of death that was directed at him right now, had decided it was probably not one of his better ideas.

"You have a cold Christian. You are not going to die", Syed replied dryly, repressing a yawn. It had been a long night of groaning and moaning and not the sort that left Syed satisfied and Christian smirking.

XXXX

"Christian, would you please stop moving? I'd be better off sleeping on the sofa at this rate. It's 3am and I have barely slept. I have the accounts for Masala Queen to do tomorrow. Mum will go mental if I don't turn up. You know what-OI! I can do without you putting your hand there, thanks. You're all germy", Syed screeched, wriggling out of Christian's grasp and shifting over onto his back in an obvious huff.

"I need to snuggle, Sy. I'm cold", Christian whined, attempting to pull a reluctant Syed towards him. "A few minutes that's all, just to warm me up"

"Fine", Syed sighed, rolling his eyes in mock disgust and heaving himself over to Christian's side of the bed. "Just keep your hands to yourself okay. Above the area at all times, I need to sleep"

"Thanks Sy", Christian grinned.

"Hmm", Syed murmured, allowing Christian to drape his arm round his waist.

XXXX

"I have to go to work now", Syed grumbled, wrestling into his coat and attempting to locate his keys at the same time. He hadn't realised that living with another neat freak would severely hinder his chances of finding everything from keys to underwear. He would leave for work knowing where everything was and then return to find the plates and bowls had moved cupboards and the shower gel was now kept on the other side of the bathroom shelf.

Christian slumped back against the pillows, making a vague noise that sounded like a huff.

"Are you pouting?" Syed sighed, frowning and jiggling the keys in his hand impatiently. He was already seriously late for work, any longer and Zainab would be hammering on the door again, shrieking for her son do the job he was paid for. The first time that had happened, Christian, of course, had replied that he would happily pay her son for services rendered but was a bit short on cash this week, earning him a hard glare and a painful shove in the ribs.

"It's lonely here all day...alone", Christian whined, pulling the duvet under his chin. He loathed to admit it for fear of giving Syed future ribbing ammunition, but he hated being alone. Being alone meant thinking and Christian hated thinking. It usually meant moodiness for the rest of the day, complete with Syed getting frustrated and leaving him alone anyway, once he had got back. That train of thought soon stopped as contemplating stalking your boyfriend once he was rid of this cold, even in semi-jest, was probably not the best action to take, especially considering the end result would be giving Zainab, the dragon and almost-mother-in-law, a serious case of Smugitis.

"Watch some television then", Syed offered. Christian's look of indignation at his suggestion earned him a distinctly cool smile.

"Oh yeah, like I want to watch purple dinosaurs, grown-ups who don't speak proper English and chavs with topknots who tell their sister they slept with her husband when she was in hospital on national television", Christian grunted, forcing Syed into perfecting his 'I do not find that funny, Christian' face.

"Well, watch something else then. I'm your boyfriend, not your babysitter...or personal doctor...or slave". Syed walked over to the flat door, pulling it open and attempting his escape from the cold-riddled man who had been camped in their bed for the last two days.

"You're my slave sometimes", Christian disputed, smirking at the red flush that suddenly spread over Syed's face.

"You're unbelievable, even when you're ill, you're still a sex pest", he snapped, taking a great interest in the paint chips on the door in an attempt to stop his mind replaying certain, more embarrassing moments of their sex life. Moments that involved him emitting noises that sounded like strangled whimpering and as a result, doing his best to increase Christian's already massive ego.

"Fine", Christian retorted, huffily, "I'll just go to sleep then and you can spend the rest of the day crying over the fact you won't be getting any action from the sex pest for a while".

"Have fun dreaming of purple dinosaurs", Syed sniggered, slamming the door so loudly Christian winced in sympathy for its pain.

"Well I won't be dreaming of you", he muttered, sulkily, pulling the duvet over his head.