Drabbles from a fortnight in the future of Ste and Brendan. POV alternates between Brendan and Ste. Just something a little different and happy! Hope you enjoy. This chapter is the first week, the next seven days coming within the next 24 hours!
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Monday
Steven still claims illness. Box of tissues clamped under his chin, eyes red and watery. No appetite for sex (too snot ridden for sex). Whimpered last night, sniffing all the fucking time in my ear, going near him was like rubbing against a pot of Vicks.
He'd perked up by lunch and the lethargic limbs of his wobbled to the front door when I popped home from work.
"Soup. Lemsip," I held them up like a man who had never done shopping for the invalid. Had I not nursed a pregnant Eileen once? Not likely.
He smiled. Bright pink nose.
Tuesday
Just sniffles left now.
Bren said it was good to see me back on me feet. What he meant was it was good to have his housewife back. He did try, but his attempts at cooking (takeaways), washing (incomplete), cleaning (lazy) just made the fever ache more.
But today we're not talking anyway. Lots of door slamming, silences and bouts of swearing. He's buggered off to the club, not the one that ticks over nicely with that hot Portuguese manager (I don't tell Brendan I think that) but the one that keeps him away for longer, away from our row.
Wednesday
Jealousy. Anger. Control. I was married to them. It wasn't like divorcing the misses, they weren't a signature away from being history, they were a blood bond. They still lurk there, like a dimmed setting right at the back. Steven knows this. We had this long chat once upon a time. He dragged words out of me. I'm not a talker, not things like that. But it helped then.
He's a jealous prick now and again. But he has the anger turned right down low. He has stubbornness and I try to fight it with control.
Today I said sorry.
Thursday
Good thing I'm boss. Late today. Three days off sick over the weekend. I'd fire me.
Today wasn't even a proper excuse. Today was the replay of the snooze button. A sex hangover. Muscles, that probably have some dead fancy name, ached. He had me in gymnastic angles until four in the morning.
We'd glossed over the argument eventually. I didn't accept the first apology. But when I was sure he meant it, I said sorry too.
"Good. Now that's cleared up…" and then he'd launched into a kiss. Assertive. I was on his lap for a good half hour.
Friday
The particular drugs deal, which Steven had described in his unique eloquence as 'dodgy', ended today – smoothly – so with any luck, he'd stop nagging. I think he'd hoped that I'd leave all that behind me. There was a difference between living with Steven (not wincing all the time at the word boyfriend) and having my balls cut off. I kept my promise about staying away from the A-class and kept less secrets from him. This deal had been the sore point midweek. As was his upcoming business trip with the ex, the Yankie dickhead. I still struggled to tolerate him.
Saturday
Funny how things change. I look at Doug and barely remember that time we were together. It almost seems ridiculous now.
The teamwork still plays well, like today - we talk about the third deli opening in Manchester with the accountant. It's not far from home with Brendan, who I can almost feel sweating in the flat trying not to text more than twice an hour.
I have coffee with Doug. He seems happier than ever. He shows me a picture of his new boyfriend. Toby.
I feel less guilty when I say I'm going to ask Brendan to marry me.
Sunday
When I get back from the gym, Steven's home from his Travelodge excursion. He tells me he missed me and his lips linger fondly on my tache. I ask about the business, I mock Douglas. I yawn at Steven's attempts to defend him and ask him if he's joining me for a shower.
Obviously he does.
In the afternoon I get a chance to look at the clubs' books and spy on the kids via Facebook. Declan's is a feed of pub crawls and Paddy's a snapshot various sports' matches. Steven put his arms around me. "Call them," he said.