Hello everybody! This is a sequel fic to my first story: forgive not forget. It's not really necessary to read that first, though there are a few OC's that might crop up now and again. Basically, Cheryl and Walker are married; Joel and Theresa are married; Doug and Ste broke up; Brendan and Ste got together; Kyle is another of Ste's ex boyfriends. I think that's all you need to know, but I might update that at some point.

Anyway, hope you like it! Reviews at the end please!

This chapter is dedicated to kabr (chickyrock! :D ) because she made my week this week :)

Prologue

Ste's fingers bit, greedy and intense and on fire, into the skin on Brendan's hips, digging just below the waistband on his jeans as Brendan arched against him. Their tongues meshed together in a silent, sensual groan that burned through both of them. Ste whimpered into Brendan, and the stronger arms tightened reflexively at the noise, dragging the lithe body closer in until Brendan could easily appreciate just how much his Steven liked what they were doing in the shadowy corridor.

"Fuck me," Brendan gasped quietly in wonder.

Ste smirked, "Well, that's different," he joked, and his fingers itched inside Brendan's boxers to grip his hard shaft.

Brendan's knees buckled, just a little. The movement dislodged them, and they fell hard against the warm, Brendan's head cracking against it and Ste collapsing on top of him. The hard planes of his boyfriend's body pressed against his; Brendan began to lift his shirt; Ste ground into him, his hand still between their bodies, and he times the movements to match the desperate pace of his fist.

"Fuc-" Brendan growled again, pushing his lips against Ste's softer lips violently.

"Brendan! Ste!" Cheryl's bubbly voice interrupted them from the kitchen. "Are you two down there?"

Both men froze in their hasty actions, awareness flooding back as they realised where, and when, and maybe even who they were. Blue eyes met urgently – though a very different kind of urgent now – and they leapt apart, pulling their clothing back into place.

"Fuck," Brendan muttered again, furiously disappointed in the sudden change in events. But he couldn't help that sneaky, naughty grin at his speedily dressing boyfriend. Ste chuckled, too; he smoothed Brendan's moustache slowly.

With Ste's fingers on his face, it was hard, sometimes, for Brendan to remember. Not the things like the boy, and how Brendan felt – would always feel, he was sure by now – for him, not the way he laughed or the way he cried or the way he could lighten Brendan's day with inane chit chat. Not the things that mattered.

But he forgot himself, sometimes. His past. Sometimes – and it was a horribly girly thing that Brendan would never dream of even thinking properly never mind saying out loud – Steven made him feel like he was evaporating, until there was just the best of him left. He couldn't complain that he didn't like it.

"Brendan!" Cheryl called again, and, again, Brendan remembered that he was in her house, at her dinner party and – unfortunately – he could not take Steven against the wall right now.

"Here!" Ste called back, without breaking eye contact. His voice was hoarse, low and grumbling and ridiculously sexy.

"Oh for God's sake," Cheryl's voice reached them. She rounded the corner, bouncing into view and stopping short as she saw them. Her arms flung wide in exasperation, "Yep! I knew it! I told him, I did: they'll be off somewhere having sex!"

Moaning, griping, she lead the way back downstairs, to where Walker lounged at the table. He took in their abashed, dishevelled appearance and laughed, "Bloody hell, you two!"

Brendan slumped back down dramatically, "It's his fault!"

Ste snorted in disbelief, "How do you work that out?"

Brendan didn't reply: he just looked him over once, slowly, and allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction at the nimble, smooth frame, the golden skin, the sexy as fuck eyelashes, the adoring blue eyes. He had done bloody well for himself. The boy was far more than fuckable.

"Alright, we get the idea, control yourself man!" Walker rolled his eyes, and Brendan stopped admiring his lover long enough to realise that he was making his sister uncomfortable with the blatant eye sex.

Chez had long since gotten over the whole "you-guys-are-so-adorable-I'm-so-happy-for-you-that-I'll-put-up-with-the-PDA" stage. Now it was just a little awkward watching her elder brother, who she loved dearly, be eye fucked.

Brendan whipped his eyes from Ste (he-was-blushing-he-was-so-adorable-Brendan-just-kindof-wanted-to-fuck-him-all-day-long).

"So, what's this?" He asked brightly, picking up his spoon and shovelling whatever it was into his mouth. "Sabayon." He answered his own question without thinking. The familiar tang of Irish liquor pulsed across his taste buds, warming his throat as he swallowed happily.

"What?" Ste asked, poking the dish speculatively and looking round at everyone for clarification.

Cheryl laughed before realising the Mancunian was serious. She set down her fork, eyes wide; she brushed several blonde curls out of her hair, "Ste, love, hasn't Brendan ever forced you to try Sabayon before?"

Ste shook his head; everyone followed his gaze to Brendan, who shrugged.

"It wasn't intentional," the Irishman excused himself. "I never even thought of it, it's hardly a common desert."

Cheryl rolled her eyes, "You call yourself Irish!" She reprimanded her brother softly, before turning back to her other friend. "Sabayon is a traditional Irish desert. Brendan's Ma used to make it a lot when we were little; it's his favourite meal."

"I thought Swiss Rolls were your favourite?" Ste teased affectionately, but a little curious all the same.

"They are," Brendan promised. "This was a long time ago. I haven't had Sabayon in years."

Ste accepted his chaste kiss (chaste for them. Walker cleared his throat meaningfully) and began to eat. He was used to the Irish drink by now, and the strong taste repelled him hardly at all; he was able to taste the delicate blend of ingredients behind it and, almost automatically, he began to catalogue them at the back of his brain. It shouldn't be too hard to make, if Brendan liked it.

"It's not quite like your Ma used to make it," Cheryl commented happily.

"It's good, still," Walker assured her, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles gently.

"You wouldn't know, would you?" Cheryl chided her husband sweetly, raising their interlinked fingers to brush against his stubble lined jaw.

Ste shot Brendan a look clearly stating that he found them adorable. Brendan rolled his eyes in return. The evening moonlight filtering through the un-shuttered window broke across Ste's radiant smile, and Brendan's heart ached with emotion watching him.

He was so in love.

"Might make a move, soon," Ste decided for them, not long later. The group had migrated to the sofas, slumped in a foursome together with a bottle of wine and the television on mute in the background. Cheryl was dropping off against Walker's shoulder, and Ste was very conscious of Brendan's finger on the small of his back.

Brendan pulled them both to their feet, wrapping Ste in his jacket with a kiss and waving goodbye to Walker as he backed them out of the door. The two set off down the familiar village, deserted by the early hour. The moon glinted in little sparks off the cobbles, and the two men hugged into one another for warmth against the English chill.

They didn't speak as they moved together towards their home. They didn't say a word as Brendan unlocked the door and they checked in on Leah and Lucas. They said nothing as they fell against one another in the confines of their room, ravenously hungry and learnedly quiet as they pawed and pulled and tugged and pushed at one another until they were both gasping and sweaty and entwined in the cool, messy sheets.

Ste played with the thick hair on Brendan's chest, kissing him softly, and, finally, he said what was on his mind, "They're sweet, don't you think? Cheryl and Walker?"

Brendan grunted, eyes closed and a doped smile covering his face. The dark swallowed them, but they knew what the other looked like.

"Cute little married couple," Ste murmured, and his head fell with a heavy slump onto Brendan's shoulder as he shuddered a deep yawn. As he fell asleep, Brendan's eyes opened silkily. His fingers wound into Ste's hair and he gazed down at the sleeping figure speculatively.

He had known all along Ste's attitudes to marriage.

Amy had mentioned it once or twice, Cheryl had suggested talking about it but Brendan...despite everything, Brendan was a Catholic, and he didn't understand marriage with a man. And Ste knew that. They had never pressed the matter.

But Brendan was getting old, and Ste, too.

Not old in the retirement, living in a home, having trouble moving way. Old in the settling down way. Old in the relaxing in front of the TV and talking about gossip together way. Old – and it wasn't a perfect comparison – in the used to each other way.

And Brendan really, really loved Ste.

What would they do, once the children had left? What would Brendan do if something happened to Ste, or vice versa? How would the world remember them?

Brendan cradled the sleeping boy closer into him. Ste kissed him through his dreams.

Did Ste want to get married?

Would it make him happier?

Would it make Brendan happier?

Quite short, the rest of the chapters should be longer and fairly regular (though, be warned now, I'm a professional procrastinator). If you have anything to say, any questions to ask, and ideas to put forwards, put it in a review or send me a message, I'm open to anything :)

Thank you for reading! ~Meli