Brendan sniffed with annoyance. Months without sex and Stephen thinks that he won't mind one mind blowing night and then bugger-all for months? Bugger nothing even. So, it hadn't been whole months, but it definitely felt that way to him.
He remembered vaguely that he had already decided to leave, that if Stephen wouldn't put out, others would. That was what his life had taught him. There was always someone else. So why was he hanging around here? He really should go.
His feet weren't listening to his brain.
He squinted through the window though he wasn't really close enough to see properly (Stephen would probably get all pissy if he knew he was there). He could just make out Stephen moving around in there. Was he dancing? The little moron enjoyed dancing, but dancing while Brendan was stood in the cold worrying about him? Not that he was worrying, obviously.
The idea that there was actually a second person in the flat occurred to Brendan slowly, mostly because he really didn't want to believe it. Stephen dancing with some bloke when he'd seemed so in love just a few weeks ago? The little…
Then suddenly one of the figures was on his knees. And not in a good way.
Brendan's feet were moving now.
…
The left handed jab to the Adam's apple had hurt. Doubly so because Terry Hay really hadn't expected it. He might have kept the upper hand, though, if it hadn't been followed by a knee to his family jewels.
The latter landed him on his knees. He let go of Ste's fingers to protect the area he prized so highly.
He had barely recovered enough to stand when a tall, dark stranger with a moustache burst through the front door.
Ste didn't seem surprised by this, and if the lad hadn't addressed the man straight away, Terry might have thought he was seeing things.
"What do you think you're doing?" Ste demanded in a voice not unlike the one he'd used to greet Terry.
The tall man glanced at Terry who was still defending his privates and rubbing his Adam's apple.
"I…. erm… I saw you…" the guy was Irish and clearly a bit of a stutterer. Terry saw that sort of thing as weakness. Ste had stuttered when he was scared.
"Well fuck off, Paddy, yeah? It ain't your business." Terry said, standing slowly. The stranger turned his pale blue gaze at him. It was steady and cold, but Terry was more interested in his bruised parts at that moment.
"Terry was just leaving. Bit like you Brendan." Ste was looking cocky. Terry hated it when Ste looked cocky. He probably thought Terry wouldn't try to get back at him if there was a witness. Thick little shit. He'd learnt that lesson before, why should anything have changed?
"Come here you little scrote!" he shouted and dived at the lad, ready to kick the shit out of him.
Two things happened at once.
First the little brat dodged out of the way, and though still nursing his own right hand, gave Terry a decent punch on the nose.
Secondly, Terry's arm was grabbed from behind, and, when he landed on a kitchen surface, there was a heavy Irish bloke on top of him. The trapped arm was pulled up behind him painfully.
"That's no way for a guest to behave, now, is it?" The voice was playful, but the body language threatened danger in every muscle.
"I was handling it meself, Brendan!" moaned Ste, but again with no surprise in his voice, and Terry got his first inkling that this was actually quite normal for the bloke.
"Get off me!" he grunted, panicked.
"No!" announced the Irish guy. Brendan, that was what Ste had called him.
"Ah, just get out yeah?" Ste flounced off in the direction of the door and the Irish guy straightened up, but kept one hand on Terry's back and the other on his arm as he guided him out of the flat, into the cold. As soon as they were outside, the Irish bloke pushed him over, announced cockily "Bye then!" and turned to go back inside. Except the door closed on his face.
The Irish man laughed, but it wasn't the laughter of someone who was amused. Terry stood up, ready to skulk off, but the movement brought him back to Brendan's attention, and he very suddenly found himself up against a wall with an angry man in his face.
"Who the fuck are ye, and what are you doing here?" Brendan's voice was a low, menacing whisper.
Terry didn't like this sort of thing; some big man in his face was scary. He was used to women and scrawny kids, not six foot blokes. Nevertheless, he wasn't going to be bullied by some bloke he'd never even met.
"None of your business!" he said, and tried to push his way off the wall.
Brendan held him effortlessly. "Wrong answer," he growled, before spinning Terry around and pulling his arm up behind him.
In his flat, Ste wondered if he should worry about Terry. Brendan could be quite unpredictable. Then he decided he couldn't worry about Terry if he tried.
A text arrived. Lucas had fallen asleep so Amy was going to stay at Mike's tonight with the kids. Good, at least, if anything else happened, the kids wouldn't be disturbed.
He found a bandage, wrapped it around his fingers, pleased they weren't broken, then slumped down to watch some telly.
The next knock on the door came about twenty minutes later. It was much politer than the previous one.
Ste considered not answering it. He was tired and angry and didn't want to fight. He stayed where he was, pretending to watch Corrie for a few more minutes. Then the knock came again, insistent but not angry.
He switched off the telly and went to the door, but left it closed as he called "What do you want?"
"Stephen?" Despite himself, Ste was relieved it was Brendan. "Stephen, open up will ye?"
"Brendan," Ste sighed, not sure what to say else.
"Stephen, please!"
Ste opened the door a crack. "What?" he demanded.
Brendan looked at him with those infuriatingly blue eyes. "Can I come in?"
"No," Ste replied, simply. He glanced around outside, "Where's Terry?"
"Oh, he had to go," said Brendan with forced casualness. He was stood far closer to the barely open door than any normal person would.
"Right, because you threw him off a cliff? Or just bashed his head in with a hammer?"
Brendan mumbled a few words, then let out a panicked laugh.
"Go home Brendan," Ste tried to shut the door, but Brendan put his foot in the way.
"I can't Stephen," he growled and paused. "He said he was your Dad."
Stephen grunted, "Well he's not. He just married me Mum. Now will you go?"
Brendan stayed where he was, still for a moment. "He… he attacked ye Stephen I…"
"What were you jealous?"
"What?"
"That you're not the only one who's beaten me up a lot and got away with it?"
"Stephen!" Brendan looked appalled. "I'm not… I'd never hurt my kid, Stephen."
"If you say so. I think all you mean is that it hasn't happened yet."
"Stephen…"
"You told me that you loved me, right?"
Brendan looked carefully to each side before he said "Yeah."
Ste rolled his eyes, "And did you mean it?"
Brendan lowered his voice "Course I did, Stephen, every word!"
"Well, you hurt the people you're supposed to love, don't ya?" Ste was nearly shouting now, tears in his eyes. Brendan's eyes were wet too. "So, maybe I don't want to be loved by you."
Brendan looked broken.
"Are we done?" Ste continued.
Brendan felt a wave of anger and frustration. It was exactly what he would say when he thought Stephen was wasting his time.
"Why don't you go find Terry?" the lad added, "You two have a lot in common."
This time he managed to get the door closed.
