15th March, 2013

He tries to lock himself away in the office, under the guise of doing the accounts, the same accounts that he and Walker sorted days ago. He has tried to sit behind the desk and do something, anything, but his eyes are constantly drawn to his phone.

At times he imagines it buzzing, lighting up like a beacon, Steven's name appearing on the screen, more welcoming than anything he's ever known. But it remains eerily silent, refusing to give him what he wants.

They have had fights before. Numerous ones, both before and after they got together. He has witnessed Steven's sulks, how his bottom lip pouts out, how he can be cold with him for hours. But this feels...different. Perhaps it is because what Steven's asking for terrifies him. It is not something he is sure he can give. Or perhaps it's the fact that he can't be without the boy in the way he used to.

In prison he built up a kind of tolerance, a system of coping when he wasn't there. He had no choice, no alternative. Whenever his mind would wander, he'd train it back to focus on something else. Anything else. He stopped believing that Steven would ever come and visit him. His name would be the one he'd never speak.

But now...the boy is a part of him. The most essential part. He is in his veins, in every breath and every step he takes, never far from his thoughts, because to not think of Steven would be impossible. Intolerable.

Sitting in his office, he wonders what he's doing now. He imagines the expression on his face, whether it's free, or clouded over with a kind of unhappiness that pains Brendan to see. He pictures Steven telling Amy he's messed up again, and that that was his last chance. He can see his life stretched before him, an endless sea of evenings spent waiting for Steven to return to his bed, and mornings spent waking up alone.

Brendan realises with stark clarity that he can't survive that. He doesn't know how to survive that.

Fuck. He's designed to be strong. He's always been able to do this. But somehow, suddenly he can't remember how to do anything without the boy.

Brendan's hand reaches for his phone. He needs to hear Steven's voice, in whatever form. To try and make it up to him, with whatever words he has. Sometimes he wishes he could hold everything in time. Keep it all in one place, to prevent it from changing.

He thought they were okay. More than okay. He would work a day at the club, and Steven would be waiting for him at the flat. He'd cook dinner for him usually, no matter how late it was. They had got into the habit of sitting round the table together, or in front of the television, talking about their days. Even the most insignificant detail was shared. Steven had this way of making what would otherwise be a mundane account sound interesting, amusing. Something that Brendan wished he had been a part of.

Then they'd go to bed, and suddenly Brendan wouldn't be so tired anymore.

There was something about the boy that he couldn't even put into words. The word 'enough' would never come into it. He would never be able to get enough of Steven. He felt like he'd spent his whole life since he'd met him wanting more. More of what, he didn't exactly know. But he was determined to enjoy every inch of him, from his soft, golden hair to his beautiful cock, to his dirty laugh, to his unrelenting strength, which Brendan admired more than he'd ever revealed.

His finger hovers above Steven's name on his phone. He will make it up to him, somehow. The idea of not saying anything at all is far more terrifying than any apology could ever be.

"I knew it."

Brendan almost jumps in his seat. He was so fixated on Steven that he never heard Cheryl step into the office. She stands in front of him, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

"Knew what?" He says, trying to mask his surprise.

"The reason why you have a face like thunder tonight. It's Ste, isn't it? I'm guessing he was the person you were about to call."

Sometimes he really wishes he had a sister who didn't give a damn about him, and didn't notice who he was thinking about, or who he was missing.

"Don't be silly, Chez. I was just calling a business contact."

She scoffs. "At this time? You forget, I've witnessed your Ste induced miserable face before. I know the signs."

He sighs. She's not going to give it up.

"We had a fight."

Better to reveal the inevitable than make her question him for hours.

He can see the colour drain from her face. 'When you say a fight -"

He blinks, wide eyed. "I mean an argument! Jesus, what did you think I meant?"

He knows. Of course he knows.

It stings, that she'd still think that, after all these months of not laying a finger on the boy, of attending Steven's old anger management classes. Is that what Steven thinks too, underneath it all? Is he just waiting for the day when Brendan snaps, and hurts him again?

"Sorry." She sounds small, and stares at the floor. "So what was this argument about?"

Brendan doesn't want to say it out loud. If he keeps it in his head, it makes it less real.

"Just...Joel."

"Joel?" She frowns. "I know he's still a bit weird about you two being together, but I thought Ste could handle it."

Brendan leans forward on the desk, his head in his hands. He massages his temples.

"He wants to live with me."

There's silence. Brendan wonders if she's heard. He can't bear to repeat the words again. Saying them now has forced him to confront it.

Steven wants to live with me.

Their own place, together. Like some...some fucking gay couple. Which...they're not. They're not like anyone else. They don't have to live by rules and labels.

Brendan hears that small voice in his head which he's been trying to ignore.

But...you are a couple. You are gay. He's your boyfriend. What are you so fucking scared of, Brady? That he wants to live with you? Or that you might want to live with him?

"Oh, well that's...I mean...it's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Together, Cheryl. Me and him, together."

"Yes, I didn't expect for him to be asking for you two to live separately, but thanks for the clarification."

"Great, so you're mad at me too now?"

"I'm not mad at you. I just...you're practically living together now. Ste stays over almost every night."

"Then why do things need to change?" Brendan says, muffled.

He hears Cheryl sigh, and her footsteps move over to him.

"Look at me."

He reluctantly does, sensing that he's due one of her speeches. He hopes it's one of the better ones.

"Everything changes eventually, Brendan. Everything. We either change with it, or we never grow up. Look at what happened to Lynsey. We could have fallen apart, and never moved on. But we had to. Because that's what life is about. What if you had never changed? What if Ste was still with Doug, and you had never got him back at all?"

"That's not the same thing."

"Yes, it is. You wanted to be with him, so you won him back. You want to live with him, don't you? And yet you're sat here, not calling him."

"I was just about to!" Brendan protests.

"Would you have really? Or would you have hung up?"

Brendan swallows. "Maybe I don't want to live with him."

"You're a good liar when you need to be."

Brendan looks at her. "Nothing's ever easy, is it?"

She laughs softly. Sadly. "No. Usually not. You just have to think how much you want it."

"I want him."

He can hear the urgency in his voice, the realisation of the truth of this, and the fear that it's all going to slip away.

"Then pick up the phone. And don't hang up."

She walks out of the office, and he's faced with it again. That phone. Steven's number. His voice, on the other end of that line.

He thinks he can do one better. And there's that word again, in his mind.

More.


It takes him shorter than usual to get to Steven's flat. He runs, ignoring the drunken students he passes, the people who turn to stare at him as he bounds past them. He has a newfound energy coursing through him, and by the time he reaches Steven's door he is breathless, but still feels like he could go another couple of miles, adrenaline spiking through his bloodstream.

He almost knows who's going to answer the door before they appear. Steven wears his emotions on his face like an open book, and Amy wouldn't have failed to notice. She's like a guard at the door now, defending the boy within.

Any fear that she used to have towards him has seemingly vanished. It's as if she knows that Brendan won't hurt her, but that she can hurt him in a thousand ways, all of them connected to Steven.

He feels nervous in this small, delicate, twenty three year old's presence.

"Hi Amy."

He avoids her gaze, the judgement that he knows he'll find there. He doesn't blame her. He can't help admiring her for sticking with Steven through everything, and still trying to keep him safe. He can relate.

"Brendan."

She has adopted a certain tone around him ever since he and Steven became a couple. There is still a hint of contempt, but a softer edge, if you listen hard enough for it. For Steven's sake, Brendan presumes.

"Can I speak to him, please?"

"He's not here."

He notices her blocking the door that much more.

It's moments like this when he has to contain himself. When he feels pressure in his body, like something inside him is struggling to get out. When his jaw feels rigid, uncomfortable, and heat spreads throughout him, a burning heat, hotter than the sun.

Part of him longs for release, in one of the only ways he knows how - by pushing Amy aside and forcing his way into the flat. To find Steven, who he knows is in there, and demand that he come back to him. To ask him what the hell he's thinking, making him worry like this, and fear losing him.

Yeah, that kind of release would be really nice right about now.

Then he thinks about how the boy used to look at him, less than a year ago. How his eyes were filled with something like revulsion. How he pitied him, and resented him, and maybe even hated him, but certainly didn't love him. No, he can't go back to that. He never thought he would experience this again - Steven looking at him with trusting, open eyes.

Perhaps not that complete adoration like there used to be, but something almost better. Understanding. When Steven looks at him, it's like he understands the core of him. Everything that makes up who he is. He sees all of it, and he loves him because of it, not in spite of it.

"I just want to talk to him, Amy."

"I'm sure you can catch him on his mobile later."

"Will he pick up?"

She hesitates.

"Yeah, I thought not. Please," he implores, hoping that a part of her likes him enough to do this one thing.

"I told you, he's not even here."

He sighs, and looks behind her to the hallway.

What was it he said to Cheryl? Nothing is ever easy.

"Steven!" He calls loudly. He sees Amy stiffen, frowning.

He ignores her, and listens, but hears nothing. No sounds of children playing or laughing. No Steven.

"Steven!" He tries again. "I'm...I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I'm such a...bastard sometimes."

He can't quite believe he's saying this, and in front of Amy of all people. But Cheryl was right. Some things are worth it.

"Sometimes I find it...hard. It's all happening so quickly, you know? It was okay before, when I had nothing to lose. But now I have everything, and if I lose it because I screw up...sometimes it's easier not to try at all."

Silence.

"But I want to. Try, I mean. Please Steven. Just...let me in."

Amy's eyes are on him, and he knows what she must think, the questions she must have. Has Steven told her exactly whats happened, or is she like Cheryl, and thinks that he's hit him again too?

But she doesn't seem angry enough for that. Perhaps she just realises that he's messed up. Again.

He was sure that Steven was inside the flat. He sensed it, in a way he doesn't entirely understand. He wonders whether he'd sense Steven in a different country, in a different continent, if he was altered by time and age and distance. Something tells him he would, because no part of him could ever not be aware of the boy's existence, of how he is a live wire of possibility and hope.

But perhaps it has been severed now, by one stupid, pointless argument.

It is just him and Amy, and no movement from inside.

Brendan turns away and then he hears it. A single word, spoken shakily but determinedly.

"Stop."

Brendan turns back to face the door, and sees Steven standing in the hallway behind Amy, his eyes rimmed with red, his hair untidy, fidgeting with his hands nervously.

He has been crying because of him, and the thought makes Brendan want to die.

"Come in, Bren."

That familiar nickname on his lips, almost like nothings happened. Except Amy's still staring at him like he's an insect in a jar. Steven looks at her as she keeps her eyes firmly on Brendan.

"Amy, could you give us some space, please?"

She looks at him, affronted. "Ste!"

"Just for half an hour."

Half an hour? Is that all it's going to take? What does he plan to do - break up with him, and throw him out? Pretend like the last few months never happened, that Ireland never happened, that all their promises to each other was some sort of game? A fantasy.

"Ste, I don't think this is a good idea."

"We need to talk, okay? Just...please. Trust me."

"I trust you. It's him I don't trust," she says, turning back to Brendan.

"Thanks, Amy. Your confidence in me is touching, really."

She doesn't seem to appreciate his vain attempt to break the ice, to somehow make light of a situation which he feels is increasingly spiralling out of control.

"If you need anything call me, yeah? I'lll be back soon."

Steven nods at her, and after a final disparaging glance at Brendan, she reluctantly walks away from the flat.

Steven watches her go, looking like he's not as confident of his decision now that he sees her retreating figure.

Brendan takes a step closer to him. "Am I allowed to come in, or...?"

Steven walks back into the flat, and Brendan takes that as a yes. He guesses from the absence of Leah and Lucas that they're with Dodger or Michaela, and is grateful for it. He doesn't want them to see their father like this, wiping the last remains of his tears.

Brendan perches on the head of the sofa, as Steven faces away from him.

"Shouldn't you be at the club?" Steven sniffs.

"Cheryl said I could take the night off."

"Joel will love that. Being in charge."

"I don't care what Joel wants, Steven. I told you, he can take the whole thing if he wants it badly enough."

"You don't mean that."

"Don't I?"

"No. You love that place."

"I used to. But what is it now? A building. A job. Someone else's idea of a good time. When I imagine my future, I don't picture Chez Chez."

Steven speaks quietly. "What do you picture? When you think about your future?"

Brendan picks at a loose thread on the sofa, tangling it in between his fingers.

"You know."

"No, I don't. We don't really talk about this stuff."

Brendan's mouth feels dry, and he wishes he could ask for water, or a cold beer, or something. Anything.

"Just...things..."

Steven laughs, looking incredulous. "Things? What do you mean, things?"

Brendan shrugs his shoulders, but feels anything but nonchalant.

"A house. My kids near me. Cheryl. Money. The usual."

Why does he feel like he said the wrong answer?

"Is that it?"

Yes, that's it.

With one thing missing. The most important thing. The one that's still the hardest to admit to wanting.

"No."

Steven looks at him, and Brendan thinks he can can see a trace of hope in his eyes.

"I want..." It feels like he's choking on the words. "Other things."

"Like?"

Brendan exhales. "Come on Steven, you know what."

"I want to hear you say it. To admit that this is real."

"Of course it's real!"

"Is it?"

Steven stands up, holding his arms around himself defensively.

"Sometimes it feels so real. Like you're right here with me in all of it. Every step of the way. And other times...you look at me like you're not really seeing me at all. Like today, at your place. The minute I mentioned moving in together, you shut down on me. And I know it shouldn't matter. That it's your choice, that you're allowed to not want that. But..."

His eyes alight with every emotion, undiluted sadness and disappointment.

"I want you to want to live with me."

They're back at that place again. Where what Brendan says has the ability to make or break them. No second chances to say this right.

"Do you want the truth, Steven?"

Steven looks worried for a second, but then nods.

"I'm still not okay with this."

Steven's face drops. Brendan picks harder at the thread in his hands.

"You and me, it's not something that I ever imagined I'd be doing. With anyone. I kind of just thought that life would happen, and I'd go on doing what I was doing -"

"Sleeping with men?" Steven interjects.

"Yeah," Brendan grunts. "And it wouldn't mean anything. Then...you happened. And everything changed. For a long time I kept it controlled."

He wonders if Steven is remembering exactly what his form of control consisted of.

"And it worked, if that's what you can call it. But then I lost you..."

Brendan's voice falters, and he tries to reign it in.

"It was like everything went black. And I swore to myself when I got you back that I'd never lose you again. But I'm going to need a bit of help, Steven."

Steven looks startled, staring at Brendan in mystification.

"Help?" He repeats the word like he's never heard it before.

Brendan nods once.

"You're asking me for help?"

"Yeah." He clears his throat. "Yes."

Steven smiles tentatively. "You know, I always wanted...I used to hope that one day you would do that. Trust me enough to do that. What do you want help with?"

Brendan steels himself for the words he knows will change it all. Funny, how just a simple sentence can alter the entire course of your life. He's not sure if he could take it back, and even less sure if he'll want to.

"I want us to move in together. Get our own place. But I want you to understand that it's going to be hard. For me. Doing that."

Steven's smile is so bright that Brendan couldn't look away even if he tried. His cheeks are flushed, and he is sitting up, straight and tall on the sofa, his eyes vibrant, no residue of tears left behind.

"You...want to live with me?"

"Yes."

"Are you serious? Bren, you're not just saying this because of what I said, are you?"

"No, Steven." And he realises he isn't. "When you're not around, I miss you. I miss you being there, making the place..."

"What?" Steven asks.

"Just...better. You make it better. I'm not asking because of some obligation, or only because I know it's what you want. I'm asking because...it's also what I want."

Steven looks at him, and Brendan could swear it is in wonderment.

"I love you. You know that?"

Brendan used to dread hearing those words. Now they are like a source of comfort, enveloping him.

"Yeah. I know."

But he doesn't want Steven to stop telling him.

Steven moves towards him on the sofa, and Brendan lets go of the thread he was holding.

Steven puts a hand on his arm.

"Amy shouldn't be back for a while."

"You gave her half an hour, remember?"

Brendan knew time would go against them somehow.

"She's probably peering through the window as we speak."

"She's just looking out for me! And anyway..." Steven lightly strokes a finger along Brendan's skin, and he feels his hair stand on end at the movement.

"She hasn't got her key."

Brendan stifles a laugh. "Are you suggesting we leave the mother of your children outside in the cold?"

"No," Steven says, but Brendan's satisfied to hear that even he doesn't sound entirely sure.

Amy has always been the one person in Steven's life who Brendan hasn't managed to force away. He likes knowing that he's capable of being his first choice.

"Imagine when we get our own place."

Steven grins as he kisses Brendan's neck.

"We'll be able to do it whenever we want," he whispers, licking up Brendan's jaw.

"Yeah." Brendan feels his eyes fluttering closed under Steven's actions.

He used to pride himself on being some sort of teacher to the boy, of showing him all he would need to know. He's starting to think he need not have bothered, that Steven's picked up a whole range of his own techniques.

"In the bedroom," Steven murmurs between kisses. "The sofa. The shower. The carpet."

He helps himself out of his jeans after watching Brendan struggle with the buckle. Brendan watches as his legs are revealed, lithe and as gloriously hairy as always. He has the strong desire to run his tongue along every inch of them. But they don't have time for such languid explorations.

One day, though.

I made it happen. We're going to live together. I did something right. I still have him here next to me, kissing me. He didn't go anywhere, and I'm starting to forget what it's like to lose.

Steven tries to unzip Brendan's trousers, but he stops him, knowing they don't have long. He kisses the boy, feeling as his moustache rubs against his upper lip, creating the most wonderful friction.

"Turn over."

Steven does so immediately, eagerly, and Brendan holds out a pillow for him to prop his stomach on. He roughly shoves down his boxer shorts, revealing Steven's rounded arse. Brendan leans forward and gives a soft kiss in its centre, over where the cheeks come together.

He hears Steven giggle like he always does when he feels his moustache prickling against his bare skin. Brendan knows that soon his laughter will be replaced by entirely different noises, noises which he has produced, which he is certain only he has ever heard.

Brendan parts his cheeks, exposing Steven's entrance. The boy can feel it coming, and his breathing becomes laboured. Brendan licks a stripe down Steven's arse, close to his hole but not touching it, and the boy bucks in his hands.

Brendan runs his fingers over Steven's back, cool fingers which give him a form of relief from the heat spreading through him. He looks delicious like this, smooth golden skin beginning to glisten over with sweat. And that perfect arse, exposed to him, pushing back against his hands, willing for him to explore.

When Brendan runs his tongue over Steven's entrance, the boy tenses like he always does at first, adjusting to the exquisite feeling. Then Brendan sees his body slowly relax, and slacken, and open up to him, like a silent plea to continue.

Brendan reacquaints himself with the taste of him, although he doesn't think he could ever forget. Every taste and sight and sound and smell is memorised, traced with his mouth and eyes and ears and nose, until he is sure that he will remember everything about Steven till the day he dies.

Brendan wets Steven's entrance, listening as the boy calls out his name in panting gasps.

He is warmed by the feeling that today he did something that has made him less afraid. He said those words, and the world didn't end.

Something started instead.

10th October, 2014

"She's coming, she's coming!" Michaela shouts out excitedly, running through the crowd like a hyperactive child.

Brendan chews his gum, hands in his pockets, bouncing on the soles of his feet.

The Savages are next to him, Will eyeing him somewhat fearfully. The village may have forgiven him, but it still lingers in Brendan's mind, the visits to Silas, stealing Lynsey's ring. Some things aren't so easy to forget. But he's been instructed to be on his best behaviour, Steven checking up on him every so often, just to make sure a punch up hasn't happened, Brendan presumes.

All day he has resisted the urge to stand on the Chez Chez balcony and look down at Carter and Hay, seeing if he can catch a glimpse of Steven and Douglas inside, preparing. He knew it was useless, that they'd be in the back in the kitchens, getting everything ready for Amy and Dodger's engagement party.

But he kept on being drawn back to that same spot, arching his neck, fruitlessly trying to see something, anything. Them laughing together, perhaps. Leaning in close, closer than Brendan ever thought they needed to be.

Every day he has to remind himself that he can't send Douglas far away in a black cab, replacing the 'Carter' of the business with 'Brady'. He knows how much the deli means to Steven. In the two years since its been open its established a steady stream of loyal customers, Brendan being one of them. He has to admit, the food's fantastic. He should have known that he couldn't keep the boy at the club forever, not with his talents.

Brendan surveys the food in front of him, spread out on the table enticingly. His hand reaches forwards, only to be batted away.

"Cheryl!"

"Wait for Amy and Dodger to get here."

"I don't see why I have to be here anyway."

She rolls her eyes at him. "You know why."

Brendan's eyes roam to the boy milling about the guests, asking them to be quiet now they're about to be joined by the 'special guests.'

Strange, how once Steven was uncomfortable in these kind of situations. Friendly, yes. Talkative, always. But unsure of himself, of what he was saying. All that has been replaced by a confidence, a belief in himself.

It is a turn on, if Brendan's honest.

"Shhh!" Steven says, and everyone in the club goes quiet, Liberty looking like she might burst with the effort to do so.

Leah and Lucas are being as good as gold, Douglas standing beside them, and arm around both. Brendan suppresses a desire to march over to him and remove them from his presence immediately.

They all hear the sound of the door being opened from downstairs, and footsteps ascending the stairs. Michaela bites down on her lip to stop from laughing.

"Mark, are you going to tell me what we're -"

"Surprise!"

They all shout it, some more enthusiastically than others. Cheryl elbows Brendan in the arm when seeing that he belongs to the 'others' category, and he pastes on a smile reluctantly. Amy's shock changes into delight as she reads the 'happy engagement' banner that Leah and Lucas helped to decorate, and she bundles the kids into her arms, Steven following and holding her tightly.

The Savages congratulate Dodger, and the drinks start flowing, Dodger telling everyone to help themselves to champagne and food. Brendan stands back from the crowd, discarding his gum for a sausage roll from the buffet, made from scratch by Carter and Hay.

Cheryl motions to Joel who's on the decks, and music fills the club, setting the mood. He sees Steven's eyes searching the room, until they settle on Brendan. He smiles, nodding his head over, motioning for him to join them.

Brendan grabs another sausage roll, because he needs something to keep him occupied while he's making small talk. He walks through the party to reach Amy, Dodger and Steven. Steven swings an arm loosely around Brendan's back.

It feels...nice. Familiar. Reassuring.

"Congratulations, you two," he says stiffly.

Dodger's answering smile is wide, but Amy's is tight lipped, but present. That's something at least.

"Look at the ring, Bren. It's massive!" Steven says in awe, and holds up Amy's hand to show him.

It's better than Brendan would have expected from a Savage, especially Dodger of all people. A single diamond, perhaps not as large as Steven's making out, but impressive all the same.

"Nice," he acknowledges. "Very nice."

"Here, let me get you some champagne. Dodger, will you help me bring it over?"

They leave, and Brendan and Amy's eyes follow them, as if begging them to stay. But they are gone, and Brendan can think of nothing substantial to say.

He remembers his own engagement party, when he and Eileen could barely afford to get a cake. It didn't matter though. Stuff like that doesn't matter, does it? But he had known back then. He hadn't felt like he ought to have done when preparing to marry her. That happiness he was waiting for hadn't come.

"You make a good couple."

Amy stares at him in surprise. "What?"

"You and Mark. You look happy."

She blinks. "Yeah. Yeah, we are." Her smile grows fractionally wider. "Thanks Brendan. Thanks for...all of this. Letting us use the club."

"Well, it's Joel's club too."

"Come on, we both know whatever you say goes," she says with a trace of humour. "I know it must have been hard. Seeing Doug and Ste working together."

Brendan tenses. They stand there in silence, Brendan wondering how long it could possibly take to fill four glasses with champagne.

"You know we're never going to be friends, Brendan."

Brendan stares at Amy, taken aback by her honesty. He tries to compose himself.

"Because you hate me?" He asks, trying to make his voice light.

"I don't...hate you. I actually liked you, once."

It feels like a million years ago now. The first time he ever met her, her skin like a porcelain doll's, her manner slightly timid. Asking where Steven was, and he could hardly believe that the boy had managed to sleep with someone so unlike him in every way.

Yeah, she had liked him then. Had liked him enough to want to come to Barcelona with him on a drugs deal, before he had taken Carmel. Liked him enough to make him a cup of tea, and hug him when she found out that Steven was with someone so 'nice'.

Brendan knows he's the one who ruined that, not her, despite blaming her multiple times for messing everything up, for coming between him and Steven.

"I know," he murmurs. "I kind of liked you too. In a weird way."

She laughs. "I just want us to get along, for Ste's sake. As much as we can. I mean, its been almost two years now. I used to feel like I was waiting for you to screw it all up, to hurt him again. But I don't think that anymore. I know you want to take care of him."

"Right, here you go!" Steven and Dodger come over to them, holding out two glasses.

"Sorry about the wait. Michaela started crying on my shoulder, going on about being the last one out of our group still single."

He stares anxiously at Brendan.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine," he answers truthfully.

He takes a sip of the champagne. It's the posh stuff, and he'd rather some whiskey, and he guesses that Steven would rather a beer from the way he's wincing from the taste.

Brendan looks around the party as he drinks. He watches as Douglas sits at a table with Riley, looking at his phone. Not once does he glance over at them, and for that Brendan is grateful.

He wonders what his life's like these days. Whether he's seeing someone new, or whether he spends every day wishing he still had Steven.

He knows that if things were reversed, he couldn't do that. Work alongside Steven everyday, watching him with another man. When Steven had been with Rae and Noah in the past, Brendan had concentrated all his efforts on trying to engineer a way to get him back. But to have no hope, no way of being with him again, and to still have to see him everyday...it was more than he could handle.

"Okay everyone, I want to make a toast!" Dodger calls out, and the guests stop talking among themselves.

"Oh God." Amy blushes, and Steven puts an arm around her affectionately.

"I just want to say thanks for coming. I'm glad that most of the people we love can be with us today. And for the ones who aren't...we miss them."

Brendan looks over at Cheryl, and they smile. Lynsey loved occasions like this.

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with Amy."

She covers her reddening face with her hands, giggling.

"I remember when I first met her. It was at a skatepark, so not the most glamourous place."

The guests laugh good naturedly.

"But I knew that there was something different about her. Special. No one thought it could work. They all said that I'd mess it up, because of my past. I didn't exactly have a good reputation. And yeah, I made some mistakes along the way. But I think that's what love is. Accepting someone despite that. Flaws and everything. And...forgiving someone. Like Amy forgave me, for not always being who I should of been in the beginning."

Dodger extends his hand to Amy, and she takes it in her own.

"But I know we'll be okay. No matter what. So to my beautiful fiance, Amy."

Everyone raises their glasses, and Brendan thinks he can hear Michaela sobbing somewhere in the corner.

Dodger and Amy kiss, looking like they've blocked out the rest of the word.

Brendan knows that feeling.


"How many sausage rolls have you had?" Steven enquires with a grin, sitting down beside Brendan on the black leather sofa.

"I think this may be my fifth."

"You like the way I make them, huh?"

"Okay, now you're just fishing for compliments."

"Maybe. And?"

"And, they're amazing."

Steven gives him a kiss, crumbs from the roll transferring and gathering on his lips. Brendan uses his fingertips to brush them away.

"How was everything with Douglas?"

Steven gives him a knowing look. "Fine. Just like a regular day at work."

"But it took more time than usual, didn't it? Planning everything."

Steven frowns. "We were just working, Bren. We made the food, came here, and that's the end of it, yeah?"

Steven wouldn't lie to him, he is sure of that. He knows that nothing happened. It is just the thought of them, together. He shakes himself out of it, not wanting to ruin the night.

"How are you, anyway? With Amy getting married?"

Steven looks down at his hands. "I'm alright, I guess. It's just hard. Saying goodbye."

"She's not going anywhere."

"I know, but it won't be the same. Dodger will be the kids step dad."

"I know what that's like," Brendan says, imagining Michael, who gets to spend more time with his children than he does.

Steven's silent for a moment, and Brendan almost wishes he hadn't asked, and opened up that pandora's box again. Then his eyes suddenly light up, a smile stretching across his face.

"What?"

"This song!" Steven stares at him excitedly.

Brendan vaguely recalls it. Some hit from years ago that they used to play in the club a lot. It seems to be popular, people moving to the dance floor.

"It's okay."

"Don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"This was the song that played here the night we first met."

Brendan stares at him in amazement. "You remember that?"

Steven smiles, looking mildly embarrassed.

"Do you...want to dance?"

That word. Dance. It's enough to invoke fear in him, turn his legs to a crumbling mess of jelly. He doesn't dance. Ever, not if he can help it. The only time Steven has seen him, he was with another man, in some gay bar that Noah had picked out. He'd like to avoid those particular memories as much as possible.

"Not really, Steven..."

His face falls, and Brendan can't stand it.

"You know me, I'm not any good at it. I'll just trip you up or something. That's if you don't trip yourself up," Brendan says, fondly recalling what he thinks of as Steven's 'monkey on acid' dance moves.

"I don't care. I don't care if you fall flat on your face."

"Oh, thanks."

"I just mean..." Steven looks at him with imploring eyes. "Please. I've never danced with you, and I've always wanted to."

Those eyes...they will be the death of him. He is unable to look away, unable to deny them anything. This boy has power over him that no one else has ever had.

"Okay," he speaks softly.

It is worth it, Brendan decides, just to see Steven's face. The joy there.

The song beats heavily in their ears.

You want me to come over

I've got an excuse

Might be holding your hand

But I'm holding it loose

Go to talk then we choke

It's like our necks in a noose

"I really can't dance."

"Then just put your arms around me or something."

Brendan does so, and Steven does the same, and they're swaying. Not particularly in time to the fast pace of the music, and they stumble a few times, but they're dancing.

"This feels nice," Steven murmurs, as if from far away, and Brendan would put money on his eyes being closed right now.

"It's been a good day, hasn't it?"

"Yeah." Brendan finds he doesn't have to lie. "It has."

"The speech was beautiful."

He feels himself holding Steven tighter.

"Do you agree with all that? What he said?"

Brendan sees some of Dodger's friends looking over at him and Steven, and whisper. He gives them his best 'fuck off' glare over his shoulder.

"About love?"

"Yeah, and about...you know...flaws and everything."

"Of course," Steven says, drawing back to stare at him. "When you love someone, you love all of them, don't you?"

"And..." Brendan can't believe he's actually asking this. "Forgiveness?"

"Why would you even...do you not think I forgive you?"

"No, I do. But why don't you want to get married, Steven?"

"What?" He stops dancing, his lips parted in shock. "What are you talking about?"

"When you found out about Amy and Dodger, you told me you don't ever want to get married."

"So? What's so wrong with that?"

"Nothing. I just don't think you decided that for the right reasons."

"I told you, my parents -"

"And I told you, you're not your parents."

Steven laughs, exasperated. "Why does this matter to you? Why bring it up now?"

"Because I saw you, Steven. I saw your face when Dodger was making that speech. I think you want that too."

"You don't need to get married to have those kind of speeches!"

"No, but are you honestly telling me that you wouldn't be happier if you had that kind of commitment? You told me you never wanted to marry Amy, but maybe that's because of what happened between you two. And how it reminded you of your own family. I don't want you to not want that with me because you think I'd hurt you like that again."

Steven's eyes widen. People must be staring at them, standing still in the middle of the floor like this, while everyone dances around them. But Brendan doesn't focus on them.

"Brendan...are you asking me to marry you?"

Look into your eyes

Imagine life without you

And the love kickstarts again

"Not exactly..."

"I don't get it then. What are you saying?"

Brendan swallows. He didn't plan this, but then nothing with Steven has ever been planned. He destroyed all Brendan's plans, making them into something new, something he had no idea he'd ever wanted to begin with.

Is there such a thing as being ready? Ready for adulthood, ready for the next step, for something that means all your old insecurities are forced to disappear? That you're choosing something else over them. Perhaps there's no such thing, but this time feels as good as any.

"I think we should...I don't know...get...rings."

The words sound abnormal in his mouth.

"Rings?" Steven echoes.

"Yeah."

"Wedding rings?"

"Yeah."

Steven looks at him like he's gone mad.

"Because I want us to be together. This whole civil ceremony thing, that's not us. But why should that stop us from being married in all but name?"

Steven's skin has flushed pink. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. So what do you say, Steven?"

He smiles at him, all honey coloured skin, thick eyelashes, reddened lips, and gentle, trusting eyes.

"Will you sort of marry me?"

Present Day - 2nd November, 2014

It is the kind of day where all you want to do is stay securely tucked underneath the covers, with a warm drink and an even warmer body beside you.

Instead Brendan is in a cold building, trying to keep warm in his office with his feet propped up on the desk, his coat still on, bending over paperwork. It is seven thirty, and he hasn't seen Steven all day. He has resisted the urge to call him, because he'd told him that they were getting increasingly busy at the deli, so much so that they are considering hiring additional staff.

The thought of seeing him at seven o'clock has been all thats kept him going for most of the day, as he's dealt with Mitzeee babbling about her latest photo shoot, asking his opinion regarding the best choice of underwear for her next one, despite the fact that it will be hidden by layers of fabric.

Brendan looks over at the clock. It's not like Steven to be late. He usually calls when he is. He tends to switch off his mobile when he's at work, and Brendan doesn't much fancy the idea of having an awkward exchange with Douglas if he happens to pick up.

He sighs in relief when he hears a noise from behind the door, the squeaking of footsteps. Standing up, Brendan moves forward and opens it, ready to see Steven's face.

Joel stands before him, his face red and blotchy, his eyes darting everywhere instead of directly at him. He looks like he is trying to contain the urge to be sick.

"Fucking hell Scottish Foxy, what's up with you?"

Joel visibly shakes.

"Whats happened? Joel? Is it Theresa?"

He senses that it's something more serious than a relationship drama.

"No," Joel chokes. "It's not Theresa. It's Ste. He's dead."