7th January, 2013
They are almost late for the flight. Brendan blames Steven's lips, the irresistible sight of them, bee stung, swollen from his kisses, rubbed raw from his moustache. He blames the soft sensation of the boy's skin, the way it gleams with sweat and exertion, gold and smelling distinctly of him. He blames the way Steven feels inside of him, tight and accommodating, begging for more. He blames the boy's ridiculously loud laughter, what he says, the important things and everything in between. He is making it impossible to leave him, to willingly be on a plane, heading back to Hollyoaks, where they will have too much between them. Always too much.
Steven is quiet on the way back, resting his head against the seat, doing that lip biting movement which infuriates Brendan, because all he can think about is suggesting an impromptu trip to the toilets. His sudden silence disarms him. He thought this was what he had wanted, for them to finally be together. The words he had spoken in the hotel had not come easily. Like when he had first told Steven he loved him, they had slipped out before he had been able to contain them. He'd fought hard all his life to control everything. To live in accordance to his own rules, and things like love...it was messy. It only dug your own grave. But the boy had him reconsidering all those rules. Or maybe he'd broken them a long time ago.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" Brendan asks. He is surprised by his own words. He realises how the thought of being away from Steven for more than twenty four hours suddenly seems so difficult. Pointless, even. Why would he, when the boy's perfection now seems startlingly clear? He wants to make up for lost time, and to never waste any more.
Steven turns to him, his expression tense. "Why?"
Why does he think?
"I thought we could...you know..." Brendan raises his eyebrows suggestively.
"I'll probably be at the deli. I really can't take too much time off."
Right. The deli. Where Douglas is. The two of them, reunited. The thought makes Brendan want to break out from his seat and find the nearest bottle of Jamesons'.
Instead he settles for fidgeting in his seat, wishing the plane had better ventilation.
"Maybe in the evening..." He is sounding desperate to his own ears, and desperate's something he can't afford to be. Ever. He doesn't understand how the same person who he was sharing an intimate bath with hours before is now giving him the cold shoulder.
"I don't know, Brendan. We'll have to see." Steven stares resolutely out of the window.
Maybe I should just leave it. He clearly is choosing to be in some sort of sulk. If he isn't going to talk, then why the fuck should I?
Still, sulky Steven is interesting. The way his bottom lip pouts out, and his side profile is exposing that glorious, suckable neck. If this was any other boy...but he's not, is he? He never has been.
"For fucks sake Steven, what's wrong?"
"Keep your voice down! You don't have to be so loud." Steven stares around them anxiously, checking to see if anyone's looking.
"In comparison to your voice, which seems to have gone missing."
"Alright, I get the message."
"Well would you pass it on to me? Because I feel like I'm missing something."
Steven sighs, and finally dislodges his face from the view outside.
"When we come back, things are going to be different."
Is that what he's worried about? That Brendan's not up for the challenge? Brendan almost laughs. Doesn't Steven realise that he's done with the way things used to be between them? That he's exhausted by it, the constant fighting and tears and loss of it all? He wants them to have what they had in Ireland. Indefinitely.
"I think that can be arranged," he says with a smile.
"Good. So we're in agreement?"
"Complete." Brendan leans forward, wanting to reclaim those lips.
"So we're just fooling around?"
Brendan stills, an inch away from the boy's face.
"What?"
"You and me. This is just..." his Adam's apple bobs up and down. "Fun. Yeah?"
Brendan sits back in his seat, feeling a rising wave of nausea in his throat.
"Fun?" He echoes. He has never hated a word more.
"Yeah. Like friends with benefits."
"Friends with benefits?" He speaks through gritted teeth.
"Mmm. It's better this way, isn't it?"
Is it? For who?
"What does that entail, exactly?"
"What we did in the hotel."
What - me telling you I loved you, and me thinking you said it back, in all but words?
"Sleeping together," Brendan says, and it is not a question.
"But just...no strings attached."
"You still want to see other people?" Brendan knows how these things work. He has seen the Hollywood rom coms, thanks to Cheryl.
"No!" Steven says quickly. "The last thing I want is another relationship."
The words sting Brendan more than he would have expected.
"But we just won't be...together."
This is what he's always wanted, isn't it? Steven Hay offered to him on a plate. Sex without all the other shit that gets in the way. And best of all, the boy's given his complete consent. It's his idea in the first place. He should be happy right now.
"Oh. Right. But I thought..."
He thought that was always the problem. Steven having to be his dirty little secret.
"It's perfect. This way we get to carry on with what we're doing, and no one gets hurt."
If this is what Steven wants, then why does he sound so empty?
"So?" He stares at him expectantly.
"Am I meant to be signing some sort of contract?" He injects sarcasm into his voice to mask how wrong this all feels. How the boy who's saying all these things is not the boy he loves.
Steven rolls his eyes. "A kiss will do."
Now that is a request he has no problem with. He stares into his eyes, and there's that look there, that mischievous look which hides all that's underneath it. Three years of history, of everything thats led to this moment, concealed by bravado, by so called bravery.
"Come here," Brendan murmurs, because he feels like he still needs to have some kind of say in all this, some form of power, however small it may be.
For a moment something flickers behind Steven's eyes. The sadness there almost startles Brendan, but it is gone as quickly as it came, and Brendan blinks, wondering if it was ever there at all.
Steven brushes his nose against Brendan's, rubbing them together. The gesture is so tender, so affectionate that it contrasts with Steven's previous words even further. Then he lowers his mouth and gives Brendan what he wants. The kiss leaves him grappling for more, his hands reaching out and clutching at Steven's neck, stroking along his razor sharp hair, coaxing him forward with his hands.
Steven breaks away abruptly. Brendan gasps for more before making efforts to control his breathing. Steven unzips his own jacket, and for a moment Brendan thinks they are going to fuck right there, against the seats of the plane, in front of the entire aisle, mid air. But then Steven covers his jacket over Brendan's lap, like a quilt.
"Thanks..." Brendan trails off, wondering if this is some sort of random attempt at warming him up. He can't exactly say that kissing Steven ever makes him feel cold.
Steven grins, glancing behind them once, then moves his arm so that it creeps under the jacket. Brendan feels a hand lightly undoing his jeans.
"What are you..."
Oh fuck. He is getting a hand job. On a plane. In broad daylight. Where anyone could see.
"Steven!"
"Yes?" the boy says, faking innocence.
Brendan makes an attempt to brush away his hand, but it stays on his cock, firm and hard, stroking frustratingly slowly. Steven's fingers swipe over the tip, and Brendan lets out a shudder.
"You fucking..."
"Just sit back and enjoy."
Brendan stares around anxiously. They are lucky that no one is in the aisle opposite them. Although he can't deny that there's a slight thrill to the fact that they're getting away with this, right under everyones noses. He looks at Steven, who's glancing at him with fiery eyes, unable to hide the lustful intent there.
"So this agreement we've discussed..."
That's not fair. Bringing it up again now of all times, when he's doing this to him.
"Later," Brendan groans.
Steven's hand stills.
"Don't..."
"I want to know your answer."
When did this boy get so fucking bold? He is making it extremely difficult to refuse him anything.
"Okay, okay. Yes."
"Sorry, didn't hear you," Steven says, a wry smile on his lips.
"I'm not saying it again."
He grins, his hand resuming its movements once more.
Brendan closes his eyes, controlling his own orgasm, wondering what in the hell he's just agreed to.
11th January, 2013
A sharp knock sounds on the door. Two taps, followed by a pause, before the last.
Steven's knock.
Brendan rushes to the door, undoing his shirt buttons on the way. He brings the boy into the hall, making a frantic grab for his trousers, the result being that they're bundled around his ankles in less than a second.
"What, no hello? No how was your day? Charming."
"Shut up," Brendan growls between kisses, backing Steven against the wall.
He rubs his hands up and down Steven's hairy legs, cupping the cheeks of his arse through his boxers. Steven lets out a small sigh, running his fingers in between Brendan's hair. Just fucked hair, Steven likes to call it. Brendan pushes him against the sofa, and he lands there with a heavy thud. He laughs, and Brendan crawls on top of him, shucking himself out of his own jeans and shirt. He sucks on Steven's neck, grazing the skin with his teeth. The boy writhes underneath him.
"Fuck, I've missed you." He wonders if this is breaking all the rules, talking like this. He's wiling to bet that their little unwritten contract doesn't extend to emotions of any kind. But he is finding it increasingly hard to keep this purely about their bodies, about sex, because they have never just been about that. It is like learning a whole new language, one which Brendan cannot speak or understand.
If Steven is unsatisfied by his admission, he doesn't let it show. His fingers trail leisurely towards Brendan's hole, until they're close to its entrance. It's a spot that seems to leave Steven transfixed, that his tongue and fingers are on first name terms with these days. Brendan nods his consent, and Steven removes his hand, holding his fingers up to Brendan's mouth. Brendan coats them with spit, his fleshy pink tongue twisting and coiling over them. He knows how much this affects Steven, how it reminds him of what he can do to his cock. His eyes stare intently at his, and his breathing becomes shallow, his erection hard against Brendan's leg.
When they are wet enough, Brendan withdraws his fingers from his mouth, and Steven returns his hand to find his hole, covered with dark hair, soft and inviting.
"That's it," Brendan whispers, as Steven's fingers enter him, and he pauses in his kisses against Steven's neck, such is the overwhelming feeling of his actions.
"Bren, do you think today I could -"
The chain across the door that Brendan has secured is rattling, and the movement startles them both. Steven removes his fingers hurriedly, causing Brendan to wince. They both frantically stand up, putting on their clothes, trying to remain as quiet as possible.
"Brendan? Are you in there? I can't get in!"
The voice of Cheryl fills the room, and Steven stares at him, panicked.
"I thought you said she'd be out all day!" he whispers.
"That's what she told me!"
"Shit!" Steven jumps around whilst trying to put his trainers on, falling more than once.
Brendan can't help but feel uneasy by the boy's desperation to get dressed, to conceal this thing from his sister. He remembers when he'd let Steven stay over for the night once, for the first time, and they'd nearly been caught by her. It had been him then who had been terrified, and had needed to get Steven out of there. Now he wonders what would happen if he just revealed Steven half dressed, making it clear exactly what they'd been doing, had been about to do. Would it really be so bad? To just say, yeah, Steven's here. He's part of this, my life. He's going to be part of it for a very long time.
But they have an agreement, and if he doesn't stick to it, then he's not sure what he'd be left with.
"Brendan!"
"Coming!" He tries to keep his voice calm, measured. He gives Steven the once over, checking for any exposed skin. Fortunately, there is none. Unfortunately, there is none.
"Out the back door. Now," he mouths, and Steven quickly leaves, like he was never there at all.
Brendan undoes the chain and puts on his best smile for Cheryl. She stares around the flat suspiciously, her eyes traveling from the kitchen to the sofa. When she can't see anything, she steps in cautiously.
"Sorry about that. I was -"
"Entertaining someone?"
"What?" He laughs loudly. Too loudly.
"Come on. You had someone in here, didn't you?"
"I was sleeping, actually."
Not a complete lie. That's what I planned to do eventually. Just not alone.
"And that needed a chain across the door, did it?"
"You know how I am about my sleep."
"I'm not a complete idiot, you know."
Brendan turns his back on her, inspecting the room for anything that might provide her with more ammunition. A stray black sock. An unwrapped condom. The smell of Steven's aftershave.
"Brendan! Don't ignore me."
"I'm not!"
"Did...did something happen with Ste?"
He swallows. He is shocked by his desire to say that yes, something did happen. Something so fucking unbelievably wonderful that he can hardly believe it himself.
"Like what?"
"You know what. I mean, you two went away together for a whole weekend. And you expect me to believe that nothing happened? Plus you've been...happier since you got back."
It's true, he can't deny it. He hasn't felt this happy since...well, he's never been this happy.
"Are you and Ste together now?"
Now that he can tell the truth about.
"No. We're not together."
"But are you involved?"
"Look Chez, leave it, okay? We're just friends."
Friends. The word feels strange on his mouth. Unwanted.
"Okay." She looks unconvinced. "Just be careful, yeah?"
Careful - him? Doesn't she mean the other way round? She's always warned him off Steven.
"I don't want you to get hurt."
Doesn't she get it? He doesn't get hurt. He does the hurting.
15th January, 2013
It's his day off, and he's still at the club. Joel hired some useless friend of his to tend the bar, and Walker's been calling him nonstop since the night before to get him out of there. Permanently. It was so much simpler when he had the best barman he'd ever known working for him.
His hands never leave his phone as he lounges against the chair in the office, listening to Walker giving him a barrage of reasons why the kid has to go.
You off yet?
Give me half an hour.
He immediately receives a text back.
Too long.
He smiles despite himself.
Twenty five minutes.
Still too long.
Someone's being demanding today.
I thought you liked that?
"Brendan."
He jumps. He'd forgotten Walker was in the room.
"Hmm?"
"You're not listening, are you?"
This is becoming a regular occurrence. He has the tendency to block everything else out where Steven's involved.
Walker's eyes move down to look at Brendan's phone. "Who are you so busy texting, anyway?"
"He's fired."
"What?" He looks taken aback by the change in subject.
"That lad. Whatever his name is."
"Thomas -"
"Never mind. He's gone, yeah? Satisfied?"
"I suppose." Walker observes him from his chair.
"Well I should be going." He stands up, imagining Steven waiting for him. In bed. Wearing nothing but socks.
"What's the hurry?" Walker blocks his path.
Brendan frowns, registering how close Walker is standing to him.
"It's my day off."
"So why not spend it in style?" Walker leans forward, his lips ready to crush against Brendan's.
He has been here before, in a different lifetime, when everything was falling apart. When Steven had written him that letter, when he'd lost eighty grand, when he had to endure seeing Douglas with someone who should rightfully have been his. But there is no letter now, only a full inbox with half a dozen messages from Steven. Steven has put aside money from the deli each month to slowly pay him back. He and Douglas are just business partners. Everything's been stitched back together again, so that it's better than before.
"Walker." He sidesteps him, swiftly moving away towards the door.
"I want our relationship to remain strictly professional." He enunciates every word, so there is no room for error, for confusion.
Walker looks at him speculatively. "Are you seeing someone?"
"I really don't see how that concerns you."
"I don't like to be lied to, Brendan. I thought we made a good team."
"We do." With Walker he knows where he stands. It is easy, safe. Walker never expects anything from him.
"Then tell me the truth."
Walker knowing he's with Steven must be avoided at all costs. And for some reason, it has nothing to do with Steven wanting to keep their agreement a secret.
"I just think we shouldn't do this. Yeah?"
Walker stares at him, those hooded eyes revealing nothing.
"Whatever you want."
Brendan nods, then leaves Walker alone in the room.
19th January, 2013
He senses him before he sees him. He hears that laugh, that strong Manchester accent, those drawn out vowels. Brendan has grabbed some lunch at The Dog in between work, and has just been about to leave. Checking his watch, he decides he can spare fifteen minutes or so. He's his own boss, for fucks sake.
He allows himself a glance in his direction. Steven sits down first, followed by Amy and Michaela, her hair its usual shade of shocking pink. Amy spots him at the bar and faces away quickly. Ste gives him a look under those long eyelashes, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth. Brendan wonders whether he is being flirtatious on purpose. Steven knows he can't resist that.
"Look at him!" Michaela's voice rings out loud and clear, and Brendan shudders at the reminder of his encounters with her, the time he has spent listening to her droning on, unrelenting.
Her eyes follow a guy at the bar, and Amy glances at him appreciatively.
"Nice."
"Oi you, what about Dodger?"
"I can look but not touch, remember?"
"Better leave him to me. What do you think, Ste?"
Brendan tenses as he watches Steven give the man a once over.
"I think you should forget it."
"What?"
"Sorry, but I think I'm more his type, if you know what I mean."
Brendan listens to their easy laughter.
"No way!"
"I'd bet you any money."
"Yes, because you were so right about Ally, weren't you?" Amy reminds him.
"One mistake."
"Are you sure?" Michaela asks.
"I just told you, didn't I?"
"Well go on then." She nudges him, and Brendan's jaw clenches. He holds his glass tightly in his hands.
"What?"
"It's been ages since you got any!"
"Michaela!" Ste says, blushing.
"Well, it's true! Since Doug, isn't it?"
Steven says nothing, staring at his hands.
"She's got a point, Ste," Amy chimes in.
Not for the first time, Brendan wishes she had gone to New York with Lee when she'd had the chance.
"You haven't seen anyone for a while now."
"What's so bad about being single?"
"Nothing. But look at you!"
"Stop it, Ames. I'm really not bothered about it." He gives Brendan an anxious look out of the corner of his eye.
"Why? Are you seeing someone already?" Michaela squeaks excitedly, clapping her hands together.
"No! No, course not. And I don't want to."
"You say that now..."
Brendan scrapes his stool back, hastily downing the last of his drink, forcefully swigging it back. It tastes bitter in his throat.
He walks straight past Steven's table, and he can feel eyes burning into the back of his neck. He inhales the air outside, leaning against the railings, staring down at the ripples in the water of the pond. He thinks he hears footsteps behind him, and walks back to the flat before anyone can find him.
It doesn't take long for him to hear that old familiar knock at the door. He considers letting it go unanswered. But there are things that need to be said, and he thinks he finally feels ready to say them.
"Where are the girls?"
"At the pub. I told them I needed to go to the deli."
Brendan scoffs. "Great. So now you're using Douglas as your cover."
"Does this always have to be about Doug?"
"You tell me. You're the one who brought him into this."
"And I wonder why!" Steven shouts. "I wonder why I could have possibly wanted him, when you were beating me up and screwing anything that moved!"
Brendan is silent, waiting for Steven to stop.
"I'm sorry," he finally says, barely audible. "You know I am."
"It doesn't mean anything. Words mean nothing, Brendan. It's what you do."
"Then let me show you. Let me prove to you that I've changed."
Steven shakes his head. "Where's all this coming from? You storming out before, getting jealous over Doug? We don't do this, remember? Not anymore."
"Fuck our agreement, Steven. Fuck friends with benefits."
Steven stares at him, open mouthed.
"We've never just been friends. We could never..."
"I thought this was what you wanted. Me, without some sort of relationship."
"I thought it was what I wanted too. And maybe it was, once. But not now."
"I can't go back to before, Brendan. The way things used to be. I can't be hurt by you again."
"I'm not going to punch you -"
"There are other ways to hurt a person."
Brendan is stuck at this. He can't promise Steven that he'll never be hurt. There are other factors, external factors that are beyond his control. Danny. Warren. He wasn't always able to save Steven from them. Being with him, marking him out as someone special...it makes him vulnerable. Being Brendan's Brady's boyfriend will never not be a risk.
"I will look after you as much as I can, Steven. I give you my word."
"It's not the world I need protecting from, Brendan. What if you wake up tomorrow and decide that you don't want to be with me, and that you're sick of it all? What if you find some younger, better toy to play with? What if you get scared? I can't feel worthless again. I won't."
Brendan walks forward and holds Steven's face with his hands. He strokes his thumbs down the boy's cheeks, wiping away the tears that have escaped.
"I'm asking you to trust me. I know I don't deserve it. But I want this more than anything I've ever wanted. This, what we have right now, it's not enough for me. I can't wait around and watch you with some other guy."
"I told you, I'm not looking -"
"You say that now, but what about in a week? A month? What happens if someone new comes along, and you stop having excuses to give to your friends? I'm not who I used to be, Steven. I'm not just going to hide away behind closed doors, and pretend that I don't know you. I want us to be together."
Steven places his hands on top of Brendan's.
"I can't," he whispers.
"All or nothing."
Steven closes his eyes. When he reopens them they are hardened.
"Then I guess it's nothing."
Brendan feels the loss of his hands, the loss of his face. The boy is walking away from him, and he can do nothing to keep him here. Nothing but hit him, and that is impossible now.
"I love you." Somehow it's not enough, but to Brendan it's everything. The perfect expression of what he's feeling, and he is tired of holding on to his pride. Tired of not letting the mask slip. He is losing him, and he knows he'll hate himself forever if he doesn't try.
Steven turns his retreating body, looking at him with so much earnestness and pain that it makes Brendan want to wrap his arms around him. Steven always did find it difficult to keep his face a blank canvas. It's one of the things that drew Brendan to him, the way every emotion flitters across his face, how he keeps nothing hidden.
Steven opens his mouth, his eyes sparkling. But then the moment's gone, and his mouth closes, and he turns away. Out of reach. And when Brendan looks up again, he is gone. The room is empty once more, the vision in front of him having vanished.
He knots his fingers together, and paces up and down, resisting his desire to tear the place apart. He only does so for Joel and Cheryl's sake. He doesn't think they could take anything else after Lynsey, and he'd have to explain what had happened. He's not sure he can even explain it to himself.
He looks at his hands, remembering the way they held Steven. How they will never hold him again.
He drops to his knees, because he thought this was it. Them, being together. No more hiding, or lying awake at night, imagining Steven with other men. Being able to tell Cheryl. He suddenly realises how proud of Steven he was. How he wanted the people he cares about to know that this boy had chosen him, that he was all his. And now he'll never have that.
There's a knock at the door, and Brendan wants to tell them to fuck off. He doesn't care who it is.
The knocking persists, and then it changes. Two knocks. A pause. Then a third.
He leaps to his unsteady feet, throwing the door open, his heart in his mouth.
Steven stares at him, unblinking.
"I love you too."
23rd January, 2013
The sound of pots and pans banging together wakes them. They lie curled in each others arms, their naked bodies intertwined. Brendan brushes the sleep from his eyes, as Steven wriggles in the bed.
"What time is it?" he asks.
Brendan grabs the alarm clock. "Almost nine."
"Give me like an hour."
"Haven't you got to be at the deli today?"
"Panini's can wait."
"I'm expecting a ham and cheese one though, Steven."
"You always are."
"And what Brendan wants," he gives Steven a kiss on his belly button. "Brendan gets."
Another kiss.
Steven stretches, yawning. "Alright, I'm up."
Brendan lifts the covers, surveying the sight before him. "Not yet, but you're getting there."
Steven laughs, batting Brendan's hands away. "We're never going to get anywhere if you do that!"
The thought of Steven being tied to his bed all day doesn't exactly fill him with dread, but he admits defeat. The boy's right. Minutes tend to turn to hours when he's in the same room.
They dress relaxedly, Steven helping Brendan with his shirt buttons, Steven getting a little carried away at one point by the feel of Brendan's chest hair underneath his fingertips. Brendan lends Steven a pair of his pajamas as the boy can't locate his misplaced polo and jeans. They're too big, but somehow they suit him. Brendan could get used to this, seeing him in his clothes.
When they're finished, they stand in front of the mirror, viewing their contrasting frames. Brendan's sculptured, muscular figure in comparison to Steven's skinny, toned body. Brendan's pale skin, Steven's golden. Brendan's dark brown hair, Steven's caramel coloured, shaven off at the sides.
"We look good," Brendan says smugly, and Steven doesn't argue.
"You ready for this?" Steven asks him, nervousness creeping into his voice.
"Ready."
They pad down the stairs, hearing the familiar sounds of the morning routine unfolding. Brendan knows he will find Cheryl making him a full English breakfast, with toast and marmalade for herself. Joel will be on his second bowl of cereal - undoubtedly something sweet, along the lines of what kids eat. Frosties, or Coco Pops. The same thing that lies in Steven's kitchen cupboards.
"Morning, Chez."
She turns around, seeing Brendan and Steven standing side by side, as if it is the most natural thing in the world. The plate she is holding clatters to the floor with a crash, fragmenting into pieces. Joel's spoon hovers in mid air, inches away from his gawping mouth. Milk pours from the metal, droplets landing in his bowl.
"Oops," Brendan says, looking down at the mess on the floor.
"Ste!" Cheryl sounds both delighted and terrified. "What are you...I mean, I know what you you...but...what the hell are you doing here?"
"Well he wasn't playing chess, sis."
Cheryl stares at Brendan imploringly. Joel's mouth still hasn't closed.
"Hiya," Steven says awkwardly, giving a small, uncomfortable wave.
Brendan knows a lot is riding on this. That if he gets this wrong, Steven may not forgive him.
"Steven stayed here last night. He's my..."
He steels himself to say the word he hates.
"Boyfriend."
Cheryl looks like she's going to faint. Joel looks mildly sick.
"You mean..."
Steven takes Brendan's hand in his. Brendan's first instinct is to withdraw it, and ask him what he thinks he's doing, and in front of his sister and Scottish Foxy of all people. But something about it makes him hold on.
"We're together, yes," Steven says confidently.
A smile breaks through on Cheryl's face, and Brendan feels like kissing her. Her approval, her belief that he can do this and not fuck it up, it means everything to him.
"That's brilliant! Come here, you!"
She gathers Steven in her arms, squeezing him tightly. Steven grins at him over her shoulder, looking distinctly relived.
"Take a seat, then!" she says, when she finally releases him.
"Oh no, I don't want to interrupt."
"Don't be daft, we want you here! Don't we, Joel?"
Joel grunts.
"Honestly Ste, this is the best bit of news I've got for...well, for a long time. Especially after everything that's happened lately." Her voice is low.
Steven looks at Brendan, and he nods, gesturing to the empty chair beside Joel. Brendan places a reassuring hand on his back before sitting down himself. Cheryl offers him a plate containing sausage, bacon, grilled tomatoes and fried egg.
"What about that?" he asks, motioning to the broken plate on the floor.
"Forget that, I'll clean it up later. This calls for celebration!"
Joel remains quiet, shoveling Coco Pops into his mouth with a renewed vigor.
Steven grabs the packet and a bowl. Last night left him feeling starving, and from the way Brendan's eating, he's not the only one.
Joel glances at him. "That's mine."
"What?"
"The Coco Pops. I always have them."
Cheryl rolls her eyes. "Come on Joel, I think you can spare Ste a few. You don't even pay for them!"
"Shouldn't he have enough money for his own breakfast? He gets benefits, after all."
"Er, no I don't. Amy works. I work. I own a business, if you don't remember."
"How could I forget?" Joel mutters.
Steven fills his bowl up to the brim.
"So Ste, you going to be hanging around a lot?"
"Play nice, Joel," Brendan cuts in.
"I'm just asking -"
"I said," Brendan emphasises the words. "Play nice."
He steps on Joel's foot underneath the table, trapping it with his own. Joel winces in pain, and grits his teeth when Brendan relents.
"Fine."
He finishes the last of his cereal, and storms off to his bedroom. Brendan and Steven smile at each other, before realising that Cheryl's looking at them with bright eyes.
"What?" they both ask at the same time.
"Nothing," she says, grinning.
27th January, 2013
"Steven?" he calls out, looking around at the blue surroundings of Carter and Hay.
The lunchtime rush has gone, and he's alone there. No one's at the counter. Just the way he likes it, quiet and with the promise of a quickie in the back room.
"You in here?" he asks, opening the door to the kitchens. He is greeted by the sight of Douglas, chopping vegetables against a wooden board, apron securely tied around his waist.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, shocked.
"I'm just looking for Steven."
"Does it look like he's here?"
He ignores the dig, the tone of his voice.
"I didn't know you'd be here today."
He and Steven have agreed that Brendan only comes into the deli on Douglas's days off, which are few and far between. At first Brendan had argued against it, especially as Steven spent a large proportion of his time there. But Steven had insisted on it. He had told him that he didn't want to cause anymore pain than he had already, and Brendan had to admire his efforts.
"Sure you didn't," Douglas snorts. "What was your plan? Come here, rub my face even more in the fact that you're with Ste, and I'm not?"
"I should go."
If Steven knew he had come here, that Douglas is upset by this...
He heads towards the swing doors, but stops at the last minute. He knows he shouldn't, he knows he should resist. But he has to say this. It's screaming to come out of him.
"You're angry Douglas, I get that. I would be too. In fact, I was, when I found out about you and him. I was fucking furious, but I kept it inside. Or tried to. I'm not going to say I'm sorry for the way things worked out. I'll never be sorry for being with Steven, because he's the best part of my life. But I know how it feels, seeing him with someone else. Losing him. I know what it's like to live without him, and it's hell. So I'm sorry for that."
Douglas looks at him with loathing in his eyes. "You expect me to believe that? You've always hated me."
"I've never hated you. I hated you being with him, yes. But I understand what it's like, falling in love with him. There's no one else in the world who can understand that more than me."
30th January, 2013
Happiness is a strange thing. Almost more alien and unexpected than sadness. When it comes it is often brief, fading without warning. For Brendan, happiness made him feel uneasy at first. He felt that he was standing in front of a precipice, ready to be pushed off at any moment. Steven having such trust and devotion towards him thrilled him and frightened him in equal measure. The closer they became, the more he let the boy in, the more he realised how potentially dangerous it was for both of them.
He was aware that the way he loved him wasn't normal, wasn't entirely healthy. When he thought about something happening to Steven, something bad, he was filled with such a murderous rage that it would take a while before he could speak to anyone again. He knew that he couldn't be around him all the time, and that Steven needed to be independent. It was essential for the survival of their relationship. But he didn't know how much longer he could keep it up. It felt like the outside was closing in, making it no longer just about the two of them.
Walker knew about them. Brendan had let his guard down in the office, allowing the door to remain ajar as he and Steven talked. He had been unable to stop himself from fucking the boy against his desk, with Walker outside, being able to hear whatever sounds they could not conceal. And afterwards, with Walker's comment about Steven's shirt being inside out...
He couldn't let that happen again. He had to try to keep Steven away from Chez Chez. What had once seemed a safe place, a place where it had all started between them, was now strictly out of bounds.
Brendan didn't like the way Walker looked at Steven. Where once Noah and Douglas had looked at him with something like love, Walker looked at him with a strange kind of angry desire. He had noticed it more than once. He almost laughed at the insanity of it, but he couldn't pretend it didn't exist. If kept unchecked, this could be a bigger threat than Warren or Danny.
A man, in love with his boy.