Ste followed his colleagues into the pub, finding himself in a large, homely place that put him at ease after the long day he'd had.

"The usual for Miss Know-It-All and two pints of Guinness, Darren," Brendan announced deadpan, gesturing to Nancy first.

The man behind the bar stole a quick glance at the lady, smiled at her like she was his favourite person in the world, and finally turned to Brendan with a more reserved expression.

Ste didn't know which the look on his face resembled more - fear or annoyance. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

"Sure," the barman answered, picking up a wine glass to deal with Nancy's drink first. No one seemed surprised by his priorities.

As he worked, Darren glanced again at Ste, and Brendan cleared his throat.

"Ye not met our new Constable yet, then?" he asked pleasantly. "This is Steven."

"Ste, actually," he corrected, deciding that he could protest all he liked outside of working hours. He didn't want everyone in Chester calling him Steven.

"Alright, mate?" Darren nodded his head in greeting. By now their female colleague had been given her wine and had disappeared to find a seat.

It was only when Darren went to pick up two pint glasses that Ste realised something.

"Hang on, I don't even drink Guinness, me. Why did you order for me?"

Brendan cocked his head to the side and gave him a half-smile. "'Cos I'm buying. Come on, live a little. Ye might like it."

"Rather buy me own drinks, thanks all the same."

Elbows propped up against the bar, Darren was flicking his eyes between the two men. "So? What's it to be?"

Brendan said nothing, looked away, and despite himself Ste suddenly felt bad for turning down the man's generosity. After all, he could have ended up with a tyrant for a Sergeant. Instead he'd ended up with...

Well, with an unpredictable, abrupt and yet somehow harmless guy.

Now he'd pondered that, he felt the need to humour the Irishman. "Oh alright, give me the Guinness then," he agreed. "I'll get the next round though!"

He turned to Brendan and offered him a smile, and got a puzzled one back in return. Minutes later they found Nancy at a table in the corner and joined her with their drinks.

She was sipping her wine and peering at Darren – trying and failing to look nonchalant.

"Don't let us keep ye," Brendan announced pointedly as he caught her eye. "Ye could've stayed at the bar if all ye were gonna do was drool over young Osborne."

Ste opened his mouth to comment at the name in surprise, but Nancy spoke first.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Brady," she replied in a clipped tone.

"Yeah, course not..." he muttered under his breath.

"Hang on," Ste piped up in the silence that followed. "Darren's an Osborne?"

"Yes, he's the DCI's son," Nancy informed him without missing a beat. She then glared at their Sergeant when he gave her a sly smirk at her haste to answer the question.

"He's a bit of a waster," Brendan added. "No prospects, this place was the best he could do."

Ste felt like sticking up for the poor guy, who was being slagged off so shamelessly while they sat and drank his beer.

Again, his fellow DC got there first. "He runs this place!" she retorted. "No prospects indeed...how does anyone stand a chance in this world when people like you are so quick to judge?"

"Ye seem to forget that the man doesn't actually own this place, Hayton," Brendan shot back. "Anne does. Darren's just the front man."

"Well, maybe I'll just take your advice and go sit elsewhere after all. I'll see you tomorrow when you've put your bitchy side away. Ste, I'd escape now while you can. Thanks for the drink, Serg."

And with that she picked up her wine glass, downed the last few mouthfuls and walked away, leaving Ste alone with this man that he still couldn't work out.

Which, in truth, wasn't actually a problem. He only had to answer to this man and work with him. That was all.

So then why did he want to work him out?

"Does the boss know you talk like that about his son?" he found himself asking. In contrast, his head was telling him to shut up. Fast.

Brendan shrugged off the question without so much as a blink. "Yeah. Why?"

He'd thought that was more than obvious. But he was past the point of caring how the hell this man got away with doing and saying whatever he liked.

"Why d'you hate the guy so much, then?" he asked, bypassing Brendan's last question altogether.

There was a sigh. He half expected to be told to mind his own business.

"I don't hate him," the Irishman said softly. "But I don't like him either. She can do better," he gestured in the direction Nancy had wandered off in.

Suddenly the last few minutes clicked into place for Ste. "I get it. You like her," he replied, then casually swigged his beer as if he hadn't just indicated something personal about his superior officer – and straight to the man's face as well.

"Rank that, in't it?" he commented of the Guinness.

Brendan turned to him and stared blankly, his voice quieter than it had been all day. "No, Steven, I don't like her – not like that. And as for the beer – it's an acquired taste. Should've known a little runt like ye wouldn't have been able to handle it."

There was humour in his eyes now, and Ste didn't take offence as he had done with every other insult. "Yeah well, it were your idea!"

Instead of responding, the other man picked up Ste's glass and, having already finished his own, downed half of the pint.

"Waste not want not," Brendan announced with a grin.

"Cheers, saved me having to fork out for another round, that," Ste smirked as he stood up to leave. He was starving all of a sudden, and decided to stop for a takeaway on the walk home. The detour to the pub had saved him the expensive bus fare, as the flat he shared was now only down the road.

He called out a polite goodnight and disappeared before Brendan could object – and again, he had the strange feeling that the guy would have done. He couldn't deny that he'd started to feel more relaxed in the Sergeant's company in the last hour; but it was still an awkward concept. He'd come to this place expecting to work on a professional level, and it wasn't really working out like that.

And now there was an odd, warm sensation fluttering through his stomach that was both unfamiliar and unwelcome, so he was going to fill it with food and pretend it didn't exist.

~ Exposure ~ Exposure ~ Exposure ~

Ste was grateful for the lift to work the next morning – he'd been running late. His flat mate had an early meeting, and conveniently Ste's building was on his way.

Ste had gone to school with the guy back in Manchester, before he'd moved to Chester himself a few years back. Amongst all the chaos of meeting new people and starting a new job, it had been a relief to know that he wouldn't be completely alone in this new village.

"Thanks, Justin. See you tonight," he said as he got out of the car.

"See you later mate."

He walked into MIT to find Nancy the only soul there. He was startled to realise that he'd already pictured their Sergeant in the room as a fixture. He was getting used to him already.

"Morning," he greeted with a smile. Nancy looked up and returned it.

"Good morning, Ste," she replied, her tone friendly despite how busy she looked. She had the phone in one hand and a pile of paperwork in the other.

"The one morning no one's around, and suddenly they're all in demand!" she exclaimed a few minutes later as she ended what was apparently the hundredth call so far.

"Where is everyone?" Ste asked in response to her moan. It had been his next question anyway.

"DCI Osborne and DI Walker are at the morgue. As for our DS...your guess is as good as mine."

Ste highly doubted that his guess would be of any use at all, given that he'd only known Brendan a total of 24 hours.

Then again, after the way he'd left him in the pub last night, it didn't take much to work out that the man was probably hungover.

"Right, well what can I do to help?" he offered, sidling up to join her at the desk.

Nancy looked a lot happier to have a companion with her in their state of limbo, and gratefully handed over some of the paperwork.

"Could you file these?"

Ste nodded and walked over to the large filing cabinet he remembered using for much of his tasks the morning before.

As he worked, he decided to take advantage of the absence of their other colleagues. "So, about DS Brady," he called out. He wasn't quite bold enough to refer to the man by his first name when he wasn't actually in the room with them. "He's quite protective of you, in't he?"

The other Constable looked more than a bit surprised at the reminder of last night's conversation. Ste looked away, panicking that he'd overstepped the mark with someone who was far too professional to discuss their superior officer behind his back. He knew he was being hypocritical to be so nosey, given that he'd been the one hoping for such professionalism himself. Until he'd come here.

But Nancy rolled her eyes to the ceiling and huffed a laugh. "Maybe that's part of it," she conceded. "He's never liked Darren, though. I doubt that's all down to me."

"You two aren't together, then, you and Darren?"

"Hardly!" she shook her head. "We haven't got past the first date yet," she added, looking almost shy about it.

Ste didn't press her on that topic. There was something else he'd been wondering about. And if his first question had overstepped the mark, then this was verging on dangerous territory.

"So. What about you and..."

"Brendan?" Nancy finished with a raised eyebrow, and Ste didn't know which he was more; relieved that she'd said it first, or nervous at the look on her face.

As it was, the woman just smirked. She looked as though she was on the point of bursting into a fresh peal of laughter. "Oh, Ste. There is no me and Brendan," she told him, mustering up a straight face. "I'm his sister's best friend. He's known me for years. And besides, he doesn't swing that way."

She whispered the last few words, but it did little to lessen her volume as the door opened and they finally had some company.

"Who doesn't swing what way?" Their DS commented, hair dishevelled and face deathly white as he wandered in and sat at a random desk.

"Never you mind," Nancy replied shamelessly. "You look like shit, Brendan!"

"Thank ye, Hayton. If that's payback for last night, job well done. Now get us a coffee, will ye?"

She relented, muttering, "grumpy bugger," on her way to the coffee machine. Ste, meanwhile, stood rooted to the spot. Nancy's not-so-subtle revelation had left him stunned.

He had managed to forget that he had a job to do until the door opened yet again, and just as they had the evening before, the Chief Inspector and DI Walker stormed in, shattering the peaceful atmosphere in MIT.

"Morning all," DCI Osborne greeted in his loud manner. "Right, here's the situation. The victim's name is Peter Boyle. DC Hayton, DC Hay, I need the two of you to go and talk to his wife. Obviously we need a formal identification from the next of kin. DS Brady...sort yourself out. You look a mess."

As he and Nancy prepared to leave, Ste glanced at Brendan. The man still looked like death warmed up, sipping his coffee and slouching in his chair. Their boss's comment hadn't affected him one bit. Or maybe he was simply too out of it to notice.

That didn't stop him from spotting the younger man's look and locking eyes with him, though. There was a smile in his eyes that couldn't quite reach his mouth.

Ste nodded at him and turned away, feeling strange. The warmth in the pit of his stomach was back, and he needed to snap out of it.

This was only day two of his new life. He had to get a grip.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated :)