Who: Icarus, Esras, Attie and Ben if he's so inclined. What: Christmas Eve dinner/gifts. When: Christmas Eve, clearly. Where: The house above the surgery. Status: Incomplete.
Since he'd woken up that morning Icarus had been in a state of manic joy that was absolutely uncontrollable. He cleaned every square inch of the house in a pair of jeans, one of Esras's t-shirts and his hair in a tiny nub of a ponytail at the back of his head. Every time he even suspected that Esras was nearby he was just fit to burst and took every opportunity given him to come up behind him and brush his arm or touch his shoulder, anything. And whenever his small hurricane of sweeping and dusting could be momentarily disarmed, he lavished kisses on his partner. The house was as festive as it could be in keeping with staying low on the radar. There were a few garlands wound around the banisters and they had a small Christmas tree away from the window that was decorated with cheap glass ornaments and topped with a star fashioned out of wire and spray painted silver. It wasn't much, but he was immensely proud of it.
And then, of course, there was dinner to attend to. He had never been more proud of a meal in all his life. He and Attie had spent the better part of the day in the kitchen moving around each other to stir this and refrigerate that like it had been choreographed. And with nearly an entire bottle of wine gone almost exclusively between the two of them, by the time dinner had been served they were in quite a state. Icarus was all smiles and giggles and as he brought the pudding out of the kitchen and set it on the table. He heaped spoonfuls of it into bowls for everyone, passed them around and leaned down to kiss Esras's temple before taking his seat beside him and picking up his spoon.