Ste was used to staying out of the way, and keeping his eyes and his ears closed. He ought to be by now, what with all the dodgy blokes and dodgy deals Brendan constantly had going on right under his nose. Countless times he'd found himself spending a night at Brendan's place, only to walk in on some sinister-looking bloke handing over a wad of money and scuttling out of there, sharpish.
Ste didn't mind. There was an unspoken rule between Brendan and him that these things were allowed to happen, so long as they never talked about it or addressed it between each other. Brendan liked to keep business and Steven separate. In fact, Brendan liked to keep Steven separate from everything else, and Ste had made his peace with that. These sorts of compromises and allowances had to be made to make their relationship work. And for once… it actually was working.
Four months it had been… officially speaking. A relationship that was started (or re-started) under the promise that they would 'take it slow' (a feat that never really worked) had become in those four months something official… something committed and functioning. They were hardly a conventional couple, granted, but Ste figured 'conventional' was maybe overrated anyway. What mattered was they were together, people knew they were together, people respected that they were together. They were a unit. Brendan was 'the other half', as awful a term that sounded in Ste's head. Ste was known even by the dodgy blokes that Brendan dealt with, and was spoken of by them with something he figured was respect; 'Brendan Brady's lad' they referred to him as.
But of course, he wasn't supposed to know about them.
Another thing Ste had become used to was finding Cheryl and her mates all sat around the dining room table, giggling, drinking, heckling. They seemed to think at first that he and Brendan could have been their gay best friends – their drinking buddies. Brendan had nipped that theory in the bud straight away.
Like Brendan, Ste had grown accustomed to simply staying out of their way. He usually hung out in Brendan's bedroom when they were there, which was never a bad thing… or if Brendan wasn't home on occasions, Ste would keep himself occupied on the laptop, playing around on google.
Tonight though, something had gone wrong. Now, as Ste felt the alcohol starting to stir his body, he couldn't even work out HOW Cheryl had gotten her way with him. He'd arrived at Brendan's at 5:00, straight from work at the deli and - knowing that Brendan would be back late – he'd had every intention of getting an early night.
How then, was he here?
He was sandwiched between the posh lad, Barney, on his one side, and the weird-looking girl, Ash, on the other. All of the students had made their mark on the kitchen; there were beer-cans everywhere, music playing loudly, shrieking voices and spillages over the floor. Brendan would not be happy when he eventually got home.
But the part of Ste that felt loyal to his anti-social partner was quickly being squashed down by his tipsiness. He opened up another beer can and swigged, and found himself laughing along with the students as they poked fun of Cheryl's latest mad fashion accessory; a massively overbearing bow in her hair.
Before he knew it, even more people were turning up. This was turning more and more into a party by the minute as Riley swanned in, bringing with him Mitzeee, Mercedes, Jacqui, Rhys and Theresa; every one of them brandishing multiple wine bottles. The noise was now so loud that Ste barely even heard his mobile bleep:
Text message from: Brendan
"Be back soon. You still awake? B"
Ste started to reply, but his fingers fumbled all over the keyboard until it was just gobbledee-gook on the screen. Christ, he really was getting drunk now, and he found himself giggling as he addressed this fact.
"What's so funny?" Mitzeee's voice demanded from behind him. "Somethin' lover-boy's said?"
Ste shut his phone protectively, guarding it away from her eyes. "Bren's gonna be well mad about this, you know." he muttered, his eyes trailing around the amateur-rave that was currently consuming the house.
"S'cos he's a bore! Not you though; you ought to be having more fun at your age!" Mitzee fastened an arm tightly around his neck, forcing him into her bosom and planting a bright lipstick mark on his cheek.
So she was drunk too then.
"C'mon!" she barked, "You're gonna have some fun for a change!"
People had warped perceptions, didn't they? Just because Mitzeee's 'relationship' with Brendan had consisted of little more than bitching and moaning, she seemed to assume Brendan maintained the same kind of circumstances with Ste. Not that Ste could blame her for thinking that; their relationship was about as private as any relationship could ever be, and it was easy for outsiders to assume that Brendan never cracked a smile.
She was wrong though. As much as Ste liked to feel his mind numb with alcohol, this was CERTAILY no more fun than his usual nights in Chez Brady. Nights that consisted of mind-blowing sex, late-night blurred conversation, casual ribbing and teasing and the occasional bickering to keep things interesting. Nights that ended with Ste lying against Brendans' chest, wrapped in his arms, his ear against Brendan's heartbeat. Nights that sent Ste into a sleep so blissful and so happy, he could barely believe he was really living it. It often felt like it was his imagination from two years ago.
"Oy!" Cheryl snapped his fingers in Ste's face, her expression one of pure glee, "Are you with us, Ste? We're talking to you!"
"Oh, yeah… sorry."
"Look at you, all away with the fairies, you're absolutely wasted aren't ya?" Cheryl shrieked with laughter. If anyone was 'absolutely wasted' here, it was her, but Ste wasn't going to be the one to point that out.
Fortunately he didn't have to.
"And if the stench of alcohol is anything to go by, so are you sis."
The familiar Irish drawl sounded from just behind Ste's shoulder, and he span around to find himself face-to-face with Brendans smirking lips and stark blue eyes, which right now were fixated right upon Ste's red flushed face.
"Alright?" He asked. Ste couldn't tell if his tone was amused or condescending. Either way, he didn't care.
"You're home!" He chimed happily, and before he really questioned what he was doing he had thrown his arms freely around Brendan's neck, letting his whole body weight slump into Brendan's support.
And Brendan did support him. Effortlessly. It would have been a turn-on, if Ste weren't too busy drunkenly gushing:
"I've been waitin' and waitin' and waitin', and Mitzeee's been goin' on at me, and I told 'em you wouldn't be happy bout this, but they didn't listen…"
"Been gettin' drunk without me, have ye?"
Ste frowned, steadying himself onto his feet and insisting, "I'm not drunk."
"Say that again. Without slurring."
"Okay… I'm not that drunk." Ste grinned widely, "Not too drunk."
"Not too drunk for what?" Brendan asked, smirking. Ste found himself ignoring those words, and instead his mind fixated on how Brendan's eyes were piercing into his, as if Ste was the only other person in the room with him. God, he loved it when Brendan did that.
Before he knew it, he found himself rocking forwards and planting his lips hard upon Brendans; a wet, hard peck on the mouth.
"Alright." Brendan sighed, his eyes crawling up and down Ste's clumsy figure with amusement, "That's enough for you, alright?"
He started to peel the beer can from Steven's grasp.
"Aw, no! Why don't you come 'ave some drinks with us?"
In a sober state, Ste wouldn't have even bothered with such a pointless question, but right now he felt that Brendan could be anything; including the life and soul of a students house-party.
"Yeah, I don't think so."
"Yeah, c'mon, we can have a dance!" Ste was joking now, but daring enough to follow the torment through, and grasped Brendan's hands; attempting to pull him to the centre of the room.
That was where Brendan's tolerance and good-humour ended. He pulled himself out of Ste's grasp immediately, his body tensing and smirk fading as he shook the younger lad off him.
"C'mon, stop it."
"Well at least stay up for a bit."
"No, c'mon, parties over."
"Oh Brendan!" Ste hadn't meant for it to come out so stroppy and slurred, but his common-sense wasn't sending coherent messages to his brain anymore. He found himself slumping back against Brendans chest, his head resting sadly in the crook of his neck; his best imitation of a sulk. "It's jus' gettin' started though, innit? C'mon, we always miss everythin'."
"Alright, fine. Do what you want; I'm going to bed." Brendan grumbled with forced bluntness. He pulled himself from Ste's arms and made his way towards the bedroom, roughly pushing Scott aside with a gruff, "Get out the way!"
He turned back and called to the clan of visitors, "In fact get outta my fucking house!"
"Hey! Brendan!" Cheryl snapped angrily, "They're my friends and they're staying!"
"Ain't there somewhere else you can go?"
"Oh c'mon, Bernard!" Michaela called out in her usual obnoxious manor, "Where's that party spirit, eh?"
"Oh for the love of God, shut up."
"Ey, Bren…" Ste started, but he was interrupted once again by Mitzeee pulling him into a strangle hold.
"Aw, come on Ste, you stay with us and have a few more! He's not the boss of you!" She clicked her fingers infuriatingly in Brendans' face, "And you, dreary-guts, leave 'im alone; he's allowed to hang out with his mates."
"Oh, you're 'is mates now?"
"We've always been mates, haven't we Ste?"
"Errr…. I spose." Ste muttered hesitantly, flinching away as Mitzeee ruffled his hair.
Brendan fixed them with a short unimpressed expression, before turning on his heel and heading into the bedroom. The door slammed dismissively behind him.
Ste felt pretty miserable then. He couldn't help it. He wanted to enjoy himself, sure. He wanted to shrug off Brendan's mood, and carry on with the jokes and the laughter, and he wanted to prove these people WRONG, with their opinions that he'd settled down too early in life. And he had always hated them couples that were constantly tied at the hip, and moped when they weren't.
But he couldn't stop. He felt like the spirit was sucked from him.
Despite his head telling him to ignore Brendan, his heart told him something different and within minutes he found himself creeping into the bedroom too, shutting the door on all of the noise and the laughter and the 'fun'.
Brendan was half-undressed; his muscular chest on full display as he slung his jacket onto a coat-hanger. The clock behind him read 4:03am.
"Lock the door, Steven, will ye?" He muttered tiredly. Michaela and Mitzeee's voices were ringing too close to the bedroom for him to be comfortable with.
Ste did as instructed. He slumped down onto the bed, letting the soft mattress massage a head he didn't even realise was spinning until just now.
"I was just havin' a bit of fun." He mumbled sulkily.
"Did I say anythin'?"
"No." Ste muttered. "You're just actin' dead moody, that's all."
"Oh I see." Brendan's voice was quiet and husky, but still strong enough to somehow drown out the noise from outside, "You wanted me to come home and crack open a pack of cards, maybe get a game of Ring of Fire going and dance to S Club 7 whilst reciting 'Fuzzy Duck' with yer little drunk friends out there?"
He moved closer to Steven, sliding so that he was standing between Steven's legs, which lolled drunkenly open from his lying position on the bed.
"Coulda at least said 'hi' or somethin'."
"Hi." Brendan's voice was low and inciting; the pitch that always sent shivers right to Ste's groin. Before he could even get his head around the suggestiveness of that tone, Brendan had bent down and pressed his lips hard against Ste's, his tongue entering Ste's mouth slowly and sensually.
Some incomprehensible noise escaped Ste's throat, before he was pushed down onto his back, and Brendan was crawling on top of him.
One thing was for sure; the laughter echoing from outside the bedroom at that moment could not have been anywhere NEAR as excited as Ste was feeling right now. The superior-feeling couples that groped and danced around the living room had no idea what it felt like to be held and nurtured and unwrapped in the dim silence of Brendan's bedroom, with Brendan's expert hands trailing over Steven's body as though it were a precious package, his lips leaving marks on the areas nobody had enlightened before.
Ste giggled giddily as he pulled away from the next kiss, and croaked "I am dead drunk, aren't I?"
"Ye are a bit, yeah." Brendan was smiling now. See. He was capable of it. He just wouldn't dare do it in front of an audience; wouldn't want to damage that precious reputation of his.
"I don't know what happened, you know; I was just gonna go to sleep."
"My sister got her filthy claws in ye, that's what."
"Yeah." Ste nodded, and with casual absent-mindedness began to peel his own t-shirt off. "She was off sayin' to everyone that I was like family, and stuff like that."
"Course she was. She loves ye."
"Hm."
"She's jus' gotta learn she can't hog you all the time, hasn't she?" Brendan breathed, and his lips were back on Ste's neck; his heated breath there and kisses that surreally mixed tender and lustful.
Ste allowed his body to be taken hold of again, as Brendan ran his fingers over Ste's chest, round his waist, into his jeans. He would become speechless and all-giving in Brendan's arms, just as he always did, but right now the alcohol was driving his mouth, and he continued to chatter…
"She were even sayin' I should get my own keys, and stuff like that."
"Yeah?" Brendan was short in his answer, keen to get to his favourite part, which usually wasn't the rambling-discussion part.
"Yeah. But… it's probably too early for somethin' like that, isn't it? Since we're takin' it slow."
"So slow." Brendan muttered, unfastening the buttons on Steven's jeans and starting to pull them off him. But the sarcasm in his words went over Ste's head, as he continued…
"Hm, I might give you keys to my place though. It would be quite good, that. Then you can come by whenever."
"Mm-hm." Brendans' hands moved their way down Ste's boxers, toying the area he was so keen to get to before morning came, provoking a hushed sigh from his younger lover, who finally looked like he was about to stop talking when…
"I'd love it if you were there all the time, you know. An' I'm not just sayin' that cos I'm drunk. I properly mean it."
"I know."
"You make me dead happy."
For the first time, Brendan stopped his advances. He looked down at Steven; the young and soulful face so close to his own, who was gazing back up at Brendan with such sincerity, it almost took him aback. Brendan knew he could do a lot of things for Steven; he could make him scream and moan and shudder like no other, and he could wind him up and he could make him laugh and make him confused and make him strop at the drop of a hat. But happy? That was one thing he'd never been certain he could do for him.
But Steven was saying it now. And with such straight-forwardness… as if it was that simple. As if it was that casual an achievement.
"What?" Steven asked, obviously confused by Brendans' sudden silence.
"Nothing." Brendan muttered quietly. He leant down and touched his lips lightly against Steven's. Against 'his other halfs'. And then breathed; "Course ye can have a key. Ye can have whatever you want; you can move in if you want, Steven, you know that."
"What… you serious?"
"Anythin'. I told you that."
Anything to make him happy. Because Brendan had never anticipated in his whole life that he might work so incredibly hard just to provoke that emotion from someone. But he would give fucking anything to ensure it stayed that way.
He was pretty sure all the happy chanting and laughter from the party outside the bedroom was NOTHING compared to what he was experiencing now; confusing and head-fucking as it was. He might not crack a smile or do a dance, but Brendan was feeling lighter and more content than he had done in his whole life.
But, never having been much of a WORD-man, all he said after that was:
"Now shut up, and lets fuck."
And let actions speak for themselves.