Hello thereeee!

I'm back again writing pointless one-shot fics with no plot whatsoever just because I'm bored on a Tuesday night. This is dedicated to all of the friends I've made within the Hollyoaks fandom, and that I hope to never lose contact with because I love them all in their own little way. You know who you are :) xx

Hardly Househusband Material

It was first thing on a Tuesday morning, silent bar the sounds of the birds tweeting outside, peaceful almost. There were no disturbances, no kids running about the place, no Brendan sitting on the sofa doing fuck all; watching his shitty TV programmes…

It was getting to Ste now, the fact Brendan did absolutely nothing to help around the flat. He'd leave all his flip flops around the house and if you gave him a duster he'll look at it and not know what the hell you are actually supposed to use it for. Ste did literally everything and he knew it was time to stand up for himself. Yes, he loved Brendan with all of his heart and he loved to help him and look after him but they were sort of in a 'partnership' now, equals and equals are supposed to share the chores around the house. Ste resolved that Brendan needed to do more, by the end of today Brendan would have this flat spotless.

Brendan woke up in a daze, he'd hardly got any sleep the night before, never did these days. Himself and Ste seemed to have better things to do in bed than sleep, more...eventful things to get up to. Brendan swung his legs across the bed, placing his feet on the floor before pulling himself up and walking over to the bedroom door, retrieving his dressing gown along the way and putting it on.

"Well this is what I like to see." Brendan said, stretching his arms above his head, as if waking himself up just that little bit more. He walked over to Ste, placing a gentle kiss on his lips before walking over to switch the kettle on. "My sexy Steven, ironing with nothing on but his underwear. Perfection."

"You don't need to be so fucking sarcastic Brendan." Ste retorted, his annoyance obviously shown in his tone.

"Well somebody got up out of the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"Whatever." Ste said, looking down to the ironing board, and moving the iron across his favourite blue polo shirt.

They hadn't spoke for a good ten minutes, Ste had purposedly ironed all of his clothes and left Brendan's in the pile. He felt like a skivvy sometimes, always running around after a 30 odd something man, almost like a parent doing everything for their child. Washing his clothes, ironing them, cooking dinner for him. Brendan always went on and on about how he wanted to take care of Ste, be the one to look after him - but no Ste was the one doing that, answering Brendan's every request. Cleaning up after he'd done the one thing he could actually do. Cook a fry up.

"Steven" Brendan started, waiting for Ste to look over to him on the sofa before continuing. "You ironed that white shirt?"

"No." Plain and simple. No he hadn't, and no he wasn't going to.

"But I asked ye t..."

Brendan was cut off. Ste was ready for a row, probably a blazing row. He'd been doing this for too long, six months now and not once had Brendan ironed a garment, not once.

"I don't fucking care if you asked me. Whether you asked me nicely or just told me to do it. I ain't doing it anymore Brendan right? You want this white shirt ironed?" Ste picked up the shirt and threw it across the room at Brendan. "Then fucking do it yourself. You do nothing around this flat. Fucking nothing."

"Oi calm down! I wash up don't I?"

"The dishwasher does all the hard work, it's not rocket science getting some fucking plates and putting them in it is it?"

"Fine!" Brendan raised his hands in the air. "What am I doing then."

"You what?" Ste looked at him in confusion.

"Well you obviously ain't gonna shut up till I help ye, so what am I doing?"

"I don't even want your help now, I shouldn't need to ask you to help me." Ste sulked, pushing his lips out in protest, the way Brendan liked it.

"You didn't ask..." Brendan walked over to Ste and stood in his light infront of the ironing board. "You practically shouted at me to help, so I'll help. Sweep the floor? Shall I do that?"

"If you want."

"If it makes you happy, then I want."

Brendan had done half of the living area and Ste hadn't took his eyes off of him once. Brendan was currently bending down on the floor, sweeping the little pieces of dust into a dustpan, and Ste had been staring at his backside since he'd started. There was something almost sexy about Brendan doing chores. It was something Ste never thought he'd actually see, so seeing it turned him on a little. He hadn't got him ironing today, he quite liked his clothes so he was quite happy that Brendan hadn't wanted to do that. Ste knew he would end up with little burns in his favourite jeans. Brendan had always been rough with his hands, so no doubt he'd be proper rough with an iron aswell. But it was a start.

"Steven stop staring at me, you're putting me off."

"Sorry." Ste replied, didn't carry out the request though.

"I can feel you staring at my arse, I've got eyes in the back of my head you know."

"I'm not."

Brendan swept the last of the dust into the dustpan and scrolled over to the bin, emptying it then placing the dustpan on the counter top.

"So anything else you want me to do?"

"Put that iron away, just gotta do something."

"What?" Brendan asked, confused.

Brendan wasn't quite househusband material yet, but Ste was going to train him up to be the best one that ever existed. Not today though, today he was going to show him how much he'd appreciated his work, as simple as it was, the only way he knew how.

"Brendan bedroom now!"

Review please I like reviews :)) xx