A Gay Day

He's got the football on again. If asked, he couldn't say who was playing, he makes vague comments and snarls things he thinks are the usual responses to a match, things like: Any idiot could see that was offside! Ste wanders through the room, keeping an eye on the dinner that bubbles on the hob and he flicks it down to simmer. It's a stew – not an Irish one because he knows that usually leads to an argument because Ste can't seem to do it right (not in Brendan's eyes) – so it's one Ste has borrowed from the restaurant menu, only with cheaper ingredients. Brendan claims it puts hairs on his chest and Ste wonders if it's actually possible to get any more rugged than his boyfriend already is.

The smell of the stew wafts through the flat and Ste's glad, because he was messing about in the bathroom earlier and sneaked a bit of Brendan's tea-tree moisturiser. He smells like he has rubbed a jungle over himself; Brendan will kill him. Ste's never known anyone to have a grooming – what was the name for it? – regime, not a bloke, anyway. But he's never complained; Brendan's skin is soft and supple and Ste's heart pounds when Brendan's scent enters the room before he does. Sometimes when he thinks back to the early days, when weird feelings started fluttering in his chest, it was Brendan's smell and presence that made him feel hot and scared of what it might mean. Even now just the scent of him fresh out of the shower or worn after a night's shift at the club has Ste ready to jump him immediately.

They argue about the moisturiser, of course. Then they eat mostly in silence until it flares up again, stopping only by a change in temperature and a heady make out session against the wall. Ste's breathless and bashful then. He gets them two cans of lager and they squish up together on the sofa, flicking through the channels. There's an episode of Top Gear on and Brendan hovers over the channel, mumbling comments about engines.

"Bren," Ste says, resting down his beer can and looking at the remote. There's a Gok Wan special on the other side and whilst he might claim otherwise, Brendan's a bit of a well – closet – fan. "Why don't we just have a really gay day for once?"

"A what?" Brendan's mouth twists.

"A gay day." Ste hiccups and realises he might have had more to drink than he realises. He gets like that sometimes. Like the time he suggested role play and ended up laying on a bed of ten pound notes because Brendan wasn't drunk enough to play along as a millionaire banker.

"As opposed to every other day where we have sex with women and watch girl on girl porn," Brendan says dryly and switches off the telly.

Ste shoves him. "Fine, whatever. You know what I mean."

Brendan's quiet for a moment and Ste imagines he's going through every cliché in the book, every stereotype they're supposed to like as gay men. They both grimace at the same things: musicals, Kylie Minogue, chick flicks, Rosé wine.

Ste folds his arms like he does when Brendan's reluctant to an idea he's had. Brendan thinks of it as sulking. Brendan's arms extend across the back of the sofa.

"A gay day…" Brendan repeats, stroking the back of Ste's head. He smiles wickedly. "What do you want? Shopping, a facial?"

"Cocktails…"

"I do love a cocktail…"

Ste grins, laughter snorting from his nose.

"You're not draggin' me to any gay club…or fuckin' Cheryl Cole concert."

"N'aww…what about…" Ste's eyes light up and he's bent over the arm of the sofa rooting around for a DVD, ignoring the way Brendan perves over the view of his tracksuit riding low. "Magic Mike!"

"Over my dead body."

Ste opens up the case with a deafening howl of laughter, revealing a Pretty Woman DVD inside. Brendan's one exception to loathing romcoms. He had introduced it to Ste as a classic, appalled he'd never seen it.

"Actually," Ste says, laying himself over Brendan's lap and staring up at him. "I had another idea..."

Brendan slips his hand up Ste's t-shirt, thumbing heat to his nipples. "Fucking you senseless into the next day?" He loosens Ste's tracksuit bottoms, edging them down his hips. "Sounds pretty gay to me."