5th April, 2013

They choose a place near the village. Close enough to the deli and the club, so they don't have to get out of bed until absolutely necessary. Yet Ste still finds himself late day after day, making excuses to Doug. His alarm clock didn't go off. He left something at home, and had to go back for it. He couldn't find his keys. Doug looks at him with skeptical eyes, but Ste knows this is preferential to telling him the truth.

Er yeah, sorry about that. I was just shagging Brendan. He thinks we need to christen the entire place, make it our own.

It's strange to Ste at first. The quietness of their new flat together. He expects to hear the kids laughter, the sound of them playing. He wakes up every morning ready to be greeted by the familiar sight of the peeling wallpaper, the pile of dishes in the sink.

Instead, he is surrounded by warm, nude colours. New furniture, where the material hasn't yet been worn away by years of overuse. He has the bathroom to himself, free from Amy's make up cluttering the cabinets, or Joel's incessant banging on the door.

He is not startled by Brendan's presence in the bed beside him. That he is used to, and he wakes curled around him, his arm growing numb from being in one position for too long, but being reluctant to move it.

He has spent many such nights like this. But it's different now. He has the knowledge that it is just them, no interruptions. That this entire place is something they've selected together, from the location, to the decor, to who uses the wardrobe, and who takes the drawers.

He could sense Brendan's nervousness when the contract was signed, and they began to move their things in. There was a twitchiness in his movements, a strained smile on his face. Ste half wondered if he would have gone back in time if he could, and taken back the whole thing.

He knew that Amy could see it too. When she, Leah and Lucas came over to say goodbye, she had looked over at Brendan, who had remained standing in the corner, looking down at the floor. Her eyes had travelled over him before Ste tried to distract her, but he hadn't been able to miss the judgement in her eyes.

Yet somehow it didn't hurt as much as Ste had suspected. He had known it wasn't going to be easy. Brendan was never going to be the type to carry Ste through the threshold of the door, or throw some sort of celebration party. They had spent the first night in their new home together ordering take out, Ste's legs draped over Brendan's lap as they'd watched tv, Ste smiling stupidly every so often, when the reality of the situation struck him.

Every evening when Ste walks through the door, he steps with trepidation, waiting for the signs of Brendan's departure. His coat with the fur collar that he wears in winter to be gone from its hanging. His pointy black shoes to be removed from the carpet. The smell of him, that same brand of aftershave, to no longer fill his senses like a familiar, comforting sign of home.

But Brendan is always there. If not a physical presence, then reminders of him are scattered round the flat. When Ste comes back from his shift at Carter and Hay, he smiles at the unmade bed that still has the imprints of their warm bodies. He sees the pajamas that he'd laid out the night before, discarded by the side when Brendan had told him that he liked the feel of him, not cotton.

Every night, Brendan returns to him.

Every night, Ste becomes more certain that he always will.


A smile breaks across Ste's face.

"You did it."

"You asked, didn't you?" The Irish voice drawls.

The hair has taken even less time than Ste expected to grow. He has gradually felt the teasing prickle of Brendan's stubble on him increase day after day, until he resembles the man he remembers from after prison, minus the bruises, and that look in his eyes that told Ste that there was a distance between them, an anger that couldn't be resolved.

"Turn your face. I want to see."

Brendan rolls his eyes, but turns from left to right and back to the middle, giving Ste access to the full beard.

Ste has never been with a man with one before. Noah always shaved religiously. Full body waxing seemed to be some sort of requirement, to go alongside his job as a personal trainer. It had almost startled Ste at first. Noah's smooth, hairless chest, when he'd known Brendan's for so long, populated with dark, wiry hair.

Doug didn't bother with things like that, but perhaps that's because he had no need to. He was fair, and had light little hair down his treasure trail and around his groin.

Ste hadn't quite realised how much he'd missed that. Being with someone who was so...masculine. In every way. It felt right.

Ste reaches out a hand, and touches Brendan's chin. He brushes a finger against the stubble, and it creates a small razor like sensation, how Ste imagines his own hair feels when Brendan nuzzles his face against it.

Brendan keeps his eyes on him at all times, assessing his own reactions.

Ste's hand moves all round his face, gently cupping Brendan's cheek while his fingers explore and feel. Brendan closes his eyes for a moment, before they flicker open, and they are warm like lava, and the strongest blue Ste thinks he has ever seen.

They can't erase all those months spent away from each other. But this feels close to repairing the damage.

"It's nice," Ste says, although no words are needed. "Softer than I thought."

"So now you've seen it, does that mean I can get rid of the thing?"

"You only just grew it properly!"

Brendan fidgets in Ste's grasp.

"You don't like it?" Ste hears the shock in his own voice.

He can't believe that Brendan could find anything about himself less than perfect.

"It just reminds me..."

Ste kisses him then. It is something he wanted to do a year ago, when he first saw the thing, when Brendan came back into his life like an explosion. He hated him, and he wanted him gone, and he wanted the pain to stop.

I want to kiss him, but I want to kill him.

He's not quite sure where that anger went, but it feels like a distant memory from another lifetime ago.

The rub against his skin is even more pronounced now. He feels the moustache against his upper lip, and the beard at the corners of his mouth. Brendan's lips are wet and willing, and Ste darts his tongue out to swipe against Brendan's mouth, before he grins, and allows himself to be drawn back towards him.

Brendan settles Ste down on the pillow, and climbs on top of him, Ste feeling the sound of his heartbeat against his chest.

Brendan lays his hand on top of Ste's as they kiss, and Ste interlinks his fingers with Brendan's. For a moment he thinks the intimacy of it will cause Brendan to pull away, but the heat of his touch remains, and the kiss deepens, the gentleness giving way to passion.

Brendan's lips move to his neck, nibbling and kissing, and Ste places his hand on the back of Brendan's head, stroking the soft skin there, encouraging Brendan to continue doing what he's doing, with the coaxing sound of his own voice.

Ste eases his fingers down Brendan's back, until they reach the waistband of his jogging bottoms. He loves Brendan like this, when he's lounging around in his grey sweats and white t-shirt, away from the sharp business suit that the rest of the world gets to see.

Brendan feels Ste's hands trying to maneuver the trousers down his legs, and breaks off to smile at the boy.

"Looking for something, Steven?"

Ste would usually make a comeback, accuse Brendan of teasing him. But he doesn't feel like it today.

"Give me it." Desire floods out of every pour.

"What?" Brendan asks, amusement in his eyes.

"You."

Brendan stops smiling then, and Ste feels like he's trying to see into his very soul when he looks at him.

"I'm yours already," Brendan says under his breath, and rakes his hand through Ste's hair, moving his hips so that his cock gyrates against Ste's pelvis between their clothes.

Ste is desperate to have him in him, to fill him completely. He has to stop himself from pawing at Brendan's chest erratically, and instead settles for enjoying the leftover feeling of the slight burn on his cheeks from Brendan's beard.

He wonders if his face is red all over, and if it's from the hair prickling against him, or his own arousal. It is not embarrassment. He got over that long ago.

It's just how he gets with Brendan. His body turns faintly pink all over. His tongue goes out to wet his lips, seemingly of its own accord. His pulse flutters in his neck. His breathing becomes a series of pants.

Any shyness is erased through Brendan's encouraging smile when he notices these reactions.

He wants it.

He wants Ste like this. Just as he is.

The rub of their bodies against each other leaves them both wanting more. It is heady, irresistible.

Brendan rolls them over so Ste's on top, and makes a grab for his arse, smoothing his hands over it as he pulls him closer to him.

Ste giggles at Brendan's eagerness. Sometimes he thinks this is his favourite kind of sex. The morning variety, when Brendan's body is completely visible to him, not masked by the darkness or altered due to any artificial light. He'd wake up like this every morning if he could.

"Steven."

"Mmmm." Ste tries to recapture his lips, not wanting that contact to break.

"You're vibrating."

"What?" Ste asks, eyes wide.

"Your phone."

"Oh, right," he says gruffly, and slowly untangles himself from Brendan's hold.

He registers Doug's name flashing on his screen. A missed call from him that he must have got over the last few minutes. He didn't even notice. Amy often calls it his Brendan induced haze.

Ste stares at Brendan warily, waiting for the comment that will come. He can practically see the tick starting in his cheek.

"Sorry, I should check what this is."

He listens as he watches Brendan straightening his t-shirt that Ste had bundled around his stomach. Ste wishes he wouldn't do that. He was nowhere near finished.

The American accent fills his ears, altered by the unmistakable sounds of a cold.

"He's ill."

He doesn't think he imagines the slight look of triumph in Brendan's eyes. He knows what he's thinking: finally he gets to step inside those four walls and be like any other customer.

Ste begins to dial another number.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Barney. He told me that he would help out if there were any shifts going."

Brendan surprises him by prising the phone out of his hands.

"What are you doing?" Ste reaches for it.

"Douglas definitely isn't coming in today?"

"No..."

Brendan smiles, and it's a smile that Ste doesn't entirely trust.

"Brendan. What are you planning?"


It feels weird, working together again. Perhaps it would be different if it was in Chez Chez, where everything first began. Ste often thinks that no matter how much time has elapsed since he worked behind the bar, it still feels like his home, like those times have never left him.

Seeing Brendan at the deli is a whole other experience. Lifting boxes of stock, and trying to get to grips with slicing up large rolls of bread, flour covering his long fingers, an apron looking out of place on his built, muscular body.

Ste would laugh, but it becomes less amusing when he's faced with a hoard of customers, and Brendan moves at a snail's pace.

"I really should just call Barney."

"Steven, you're getting my services for free. Isn't that better than having to pay some student just because Douglas is in bed with the man flu?"

"Brendan! He sounded really sick on the phone."

Brendan chops into a cucumber with particular vigour.

"This was a bad idea."

Brendan sighs, and takes Ste's hand under the table. He's disarmed by the gesture, aware that someone could see, and Brendan has full knowledge of this.

"Look, me and you both know that my talents don't lie in chopping up paninis. Why don't you do the food, and I take the orders?"

Ste has been avoiding this on purpose. He thought it far safer for Brendan to stay where he could see him, and where, if he was honest, he had the least contact with people as possible. The memory of Brendan eating another customer's panini in front of him, and then shoving it into his chest remains in the forefront of his mind.

"I'll be on my best behaviour, I promise," Brendan says, seemingly reading his mind.

"Okay. But be nice, yeah?"

"When am I not?"

He flashes Ste a dazzling smile over his shoulder that makes him feel weak at the knees.

As Ste begins working on the first few orders, he watches and listens to Brendan out of the corner of his eye.

He's a natural, and it's both entirely surprising and predictable.

Ste remembers the same way Brendan charmed him, how all he would have to do was lower his voice and stare into his eyes, and he would be left feeling like he was king of the world.

He stills for a moment when a customer complains to Brendan about the wait, but Brendan merely aplogisies, and begins to chatter away aimlessly, distracting the woman like he was born to do it.

Soon the gaggle of people fades away, and Ste takes a moment to sit down on the seats that overlook the window. He pats the seat beside him, motioning for Brendan to join him.

He can't resist another feel of the beard, kissing the side of Brendan's cheek to get the full impact of it.

"You going to make me keep this thing?"

"Maybe."

He still hasn't experienced the feel of it on other areas.

"I've already had Jacqui McQueen tell me I look like a hermit."

Ste laughs. "My hermit."

They settle back onto the couch, and Ste enjoys the silence after the bustle of the previous hour.

Silences with Brendan feel natural, relaxed. There is no need to fill in the gaps with pointless conversation. He doesn't feel boring, or self conscious. He is just allowed space to be.

Ste settles into the crook of his elbow.

He knows that separating his personal and professional life is essential. That it would only cause Doug pain to see Brendan here, at the business they created together. That it would only cause Brendan unnecessary worry to see them laughing and joking together, like the friends they are.

But sometimes he misses the closeness of Chez Chez, and he thinks of how better his day at Carter and Hay would be if he received a certain visitor.

Sometimes he misses Brendan so much that it scares the life out of him, even more so when the time and distance is so little.

He may look out of place in the deli, but he feels completely right sat beside him.

"Thanks for your help today, Bren."

He feels lips on his hair.

"You can pay me with lunch."

"Cheeky git. I should of known. I bet you only agreed to help me for a ham and cheese panini, didn't you?

"Actually Steven, I'm in more of a jam sandwich mood. Seed -"

"I know."

He rises from the sofa to go into the kitchen and get the jar he keeps just for Brendan. Jam sandwiches aren't exactly part of his and Doug's deli menu, and they'd never have the jar at all it hadn't been for the day a year ago now.

Ste keeps the jar out of eye access, and right at the back of the cupboard. He's sure he's being silly, but he doesn't want Doug to see it.

He takes out some bread and spreads the jam just like Brendan likes it, thick and generously, so that it pools over the sides when he places the slices of bread on top of each other.

He can practically see Brendan salivate when he brings the plate through.

"Here you go."

His lips part around the sandwich, and Ste can't help but watch as jam and crumbs settle around Brendan's mouth.

The perverted nature of his own viewing strikes him, and he tries to look away, but Brendan's tongue coils out in front of him, and he sees that any attempt to pretend he's not interested is futile.

"You're doing this on purpose."

It's like a slow torture.

Brendan offers Ste some of the sandwich, and Ste nibbles it from his outstretched hand, licking the stickiness off Brendan's finger.

He tries to eat more, but Brendan eats it before he can access to it, and grins at Ste, red sweetness around his mouth.

"You look..."

"What?" Brendan asks, suddenly wary by the intensity of Ste's gaze.

"Happy."

Brendan's look turns somber.

"Maybe I spoke too soon," Ste jokes, although he feels unsettled, like the sunshine has just gone down.

Brendan puts the plate on the side. He's not one to ignore food, so Ste knows whatever's coming must be serious.

"No, I am...happy."

Ste can't help but laugh slightly at his complete lack of joy at saying this.

"I am," Brendan says, holding his gaze. "It's just...strange."

"Why?"

He swallows, and does that thing where he massages his temples, as though pressure is building in his brain.

"Because I never thought I'd be happy."

Ste reaches out a hand and removes Brendan's own, smoothing out the creases on his brow.

Sometimes he thinks Brendan has been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders his whole life, and it's time for him to take some of the load.

It had been his wish for years, ever since Brendan had kissed him for the first time in that cellar.

He'd told him once.

I want us to have a proper relationship, you know? Where we just be there for each other. Share things.

He'd watched at the time as Brendan had squirmed uncomfortably, staring around at the gay bar he'd taken him to like it was something alien, terrifying.

Then a hasty dash to the bathrooms, before which he'd placed a hand over Ste's.

Ste had felt the touch linger afterwards, even when Brendan was already on his way to Ireland, having climbed out of the bathroom window.

This time, he doesn't have to imagine how it would feel to have Brendan's touch still on him. He knows Brendan's not one for public displays of affection or sentimentality, but Ste can't resist interlocking their fingers together, and seeing how Brendan's hand swallows his own.

He wants to tell him all kinds of things. How despite their first two years, this last one has been the best of Ste's life. How Brendan is his first love, and he wants him to be his last.

"What are you thinking about?"

He can hear the sounds of Brendan's words echoing in his chest as Ste lies against it.

"Nothing."

"You looked a million miles away."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Brendan looks at him and smiles. The reference is not lost on him.

"Mmm. Now what do you say to you helping me get this ridiculous beard off my face?"

11th October, 2014

They don't make it home until the early hours of the morning after Amy and Dodger's engagement party. While the rest of the guests leave at varying times, Ste stays till the end, minding the kids while the wine flows and the congratulations never seem to end.

Brendan mainly sticks by his side, occasionally being led over to the rest of the crowd on Cheryl's insistence.

Ste senses his relief when the night finally comes to a close, and he is transparent in his eagerness to clean up Chez Chez as quick as possible.

Ste kisses Amy goodbye, and despite her age and the momentous milestone that they have just celebrated, she is still so much the child that Ste first met all those years ago.

He almost reveals all about his and Brendan's own news to her, but he wants this to be her moment.

And he is not quite sure how he would explain it.

"Me and Brendan are engaged. Well, not exactly engaged. We're...we're going to buy rings. We're not going to have one of those civil partnerships though. We're just...we're..."

We're going to be together until the day we die.

Would that be the best way to put it? It is not something that he has doubted since they became a couple, but somehow this makes it more official.

He is Brendan Brady's husband.

Sort of.

Ste's excitement is palpable when he arrives back at the flat. He is practically bouncing off the walls, as light as air.

Brendan regards him with amusement as Ste rolls his gangly body on the bed, not the least bit tired, despite the day's events.

"What rings are we going to get, Bren?"

The thought of Brendan wearing a ring makes him want to giggle. The only item of jewellery that he's ever worn has been some cuffs that he discarded long ago, and the silver cross that always remains a part of him.

He's not the type to wear anything elaborate or fancy, and neither is Ste.

"What rings do you want to get?'

He is pleased that Brendan sounds just as enthused as he is.

"I don't know. Nothing too showy. Maybe something plain? Simple."

Brendan crawls on the bed towards him, and kisses him.

"Simple sounds good."

Ste can't help but laugh. Brendan pulls back.

"Something funny, Steven? I'm doing some of my best work here."

"Sorry."

Brendan puts his lips to his once again, but the sounds continue.

"Sorry!" Ste breathes in between his laughter. "It's just...we're engaged, Bren!"

"Well, not in the eyes of the law."

"I know, but..."

"I know what you mean," he says, and strokes down Ste's face, fondling his neck.

Suddenly, Ste doesn't feel like laughing anymore.

He pulls Brendan into a kiss that is breathless and sensual, their lips moving together in harmony, accustomed to each others likes and pleasures.

Ste reaches out a hand and boldly swipes his fingers against Brendan's cock through the material of his trousers. Brendan arches into the touch, and they are unzipped within a second, Brendan's boxer shorts already tented by Ste's actions.

Ste feels like he wants to capture this moment, and never let it stop. Contentment surrounds him like a protective bubble, and it's as though the jigsaw pieces have slotted into the right places. Amy is with someone she loves. His pride for his kids couldn't grow any more. Things are right between him and Doug.

And he has this now, here.

Brendan.

Brendan unpeels the layers of clothes off Ste like it is a form of body worship. He is delicate, but not teasingly or hesitantly so. Every movement is confident and firm, but protective, loving.

He strokes down Ste's body, encouraging him to settle on top of him in the bed.

Ste resumes his ministrations on Brendan's cock through his underwear, hard strokes that leave Brendan biting his lip.

"Let me..." Brendan takes his hand away, and lowers down his shorts, nodding at Ste to resume his movements.

Ste brings their foreheads together as he touches him. He loves it like this, when they're as close as it's possible to be, eye to eye level, reading every emotion and expression on Brendan's face.

It gives him an extreme sense of power and satisfaction, that he is affecting Brendan through the use of his own body, a body that he wasn't sure could ever please anyone, not after the things it had done, the ways it had hurt.

He runs his fingers over the head of Brendan's cock, eliciting a small moan from the older man. All nine inches are before him, and his own cock hardens when he feels the unmistakable wetness of pre cum.

Ste moves down in the bed, his tongue finding Brendan's chest and trailing down lazily. He feels Brendan's dark hair against it, and his masculinity only serves to spike his arousal.

When he reaches his cock, it's lying erect on Brendan's stomach. Ste rubs against it with his nose, and Brendan regards him with a kind of awe.

Ste licks along the bulging veins, and resists putting his mouth around it. This is half the fun. The anticipation, the wait for it, the delicious foreplay which makes the main event feel like a beautiful release.

There is also the knowledge that they have the whole night spread out before them, in which to explore and luxuriate over every inch of skin on display.

It reminds Ste of their first ever night together, when it seemed like everything would be alright if there was just the two of them. No distractions, no girlfriends getting in the way, real ones or otherwise. No violence or the interference of family members and friends who would drive Brendan back into the closet, and away from Ste.

They'd spent the whole afternoon and evening fucking each other, the first time for Ste.

Brendan had shown him a part of himself that he hadn't even been sure existed. When he'd first had thoughts of Callum while he'd been locked away, the idea of acting on them had been in his mind, but far removed from the reality of life in young offenders, and his life outside of it. It wasn't something that people like him did. Not when you've grown up on a council estate, and have a step dad who calls people like that those fucking queers. Not when you have a girl waiting for you at home, who you've built a connection with, and who sex with holds its own sort of pleasures.

With Brendan, there hadn't been a choice.

Fuck what Terry would think, or how everyone else would react.

He knew that where Brendan was concerned, he would always come back for more.

This isn't their first time, though. The bruises which covered Ste's body back then are gone, his golden skin smooth and clear.

He doesn't have to watch his own reactions or fear for Brendan's own.

He is a man who is gay and not ashamed of it, a man who knows what he wants, and seeks it out.

When he flips his body over so that they are top to toe, Brendan's cock before him, Ste's arse facing Brendan, he feels assured. He feels like this is something he can do. Something he deserves to do, without shame.

Brendan pulls Ste's body down ever so slightly, so that his arse is directly in front of his mouth. Ste knows what's to come, and it makes him feel lightheaded. He concentrates his attentions on Brendan's cock, taking it down to the root, a skill that he has mastered with patience and copious lessons from the man who taught him about who he is.

He begins to feel a tongue, softly probing. Hands are on his legs, and the hair there is being gently smoothed down. Ste knows that Brendan has a particular fondness for his legs. Any attempt by Ste to cover them up in the past has resulted in a loud tutting and an annoyed protestation.

"Why would you hide them, Steven?"

"I don't know. They're so skinny. Awkward."

"Fuckable," he would say definitively. "Highly fuckable. Want me to show you just how much?"

Brendan is a master at rimming. He has Ste wanting to buckle under the pressure of the little teasing lapping, his focus being taken away from Brendan's own throbbing cock.

Ste yells out a series of inaudible sounds. He gets like this is bed. Not always in control of his own reactions. Vocal to the point of deafening.

He has asked self consciously in the past if Brendan minds, only to be rewarded by a whisper in his ear, telling him he likes it. More than likes it.

Ste pushes back his arse against Brendan's mouth. He knows how to apply just the right amount of attention to get Ste thoroughly wet and begging for the main event, without applying the pressure too much so that he comes before they've got started.

Brendan breaks off, kissing the velvet globes of Ste's arse.

"Brendan."

Ste tries to grind back onto Brendan's lips, looking behind his shoulder to see why he's halted.

"Little attention please."

Brendan nods to his cock.

"Sorry," Ste huffs, wondering how Brendan can possibly expect him to keep a focused mind when he's doing that to him.

He takes his cock back into his mouth. It feels good, filling Ste's mouth with its girth. The taste is oddly comforting, familiar.

He alternates between long licks and sucking it, and his own dick feels like it's going to burst from the view of Brendan's cock disappearing down his throat, and a tongue being roughly coiled into his hole.

His entire body is being invaded, and he has never wanted it more.

There is a point where it gets too much, and he is sure he is going to come all over the bedsheets.

He is about to draw back and ask Brendan for some kind of release, any, when his searching tongue is replaced by a finger, exploring his wet, tight heat.

"Fuck."

Ste rests his head in between Brendan's spread eagled legs as he feels Brendan's slick digits stretching him.

He is merciless in his actions, because he knows Ste can take it, that he wants it like this.

Brendan marvels at the sight of Ste clawing the sheets. He can feel his rock hard cock against his stomach.

Seeing him like this is wonderful, a turn on in itself.

Brendan withdraws his finger, and holds it out to Ste.

"Want to taste yourself?"

He know how the boy gets when he's like this, horny beyond the point of return, his pupils overblown and dilated, stretching his own limits again and again.

There's very little they haven't done together now.

Ste cranes his neck to give himself better access, and Brendan extends his finger. Ste takes it into his mouth and Brendan reaches for his own cock while Ste sucks on his finger.

When he sucks it dry, he gazes at Brendan with a look akin to achievement.

"Good boy."

Brendan traces his spine, and then resumes his actions, this time adding another finger into Ste's entrance.

Ste twists and flexes, then adjusts, moving back and forth. It feels like Brendan's finger is reaching as far into him as it's possible to go, and it makes him eager for the real thing.

"Put it in me, Bren."

"Do you want to ride it?"

Ste relishes being on top, setting the pace, feeling Brendan's hips rotate upwards to meet his own movements.

But today he wants Brendan to take charge and be on top of him.

He wants to be thoroughly taken.

"No," Ste sighs, breathless in anticipation. "Lie on top of me."

Brendan lines himself up, and Ste spreads his legs as wide as they'll go, a non verbal invitation.

Brendan settles in between them, and guides his cock inside.

"Good day?" Brendan asks.

Brendan is not exactly one for pillow talk during or after sex, and Ste doesn't know whether to answer seriously or not.

"The best."

He feels like he can face anything if Brendan is by his side. Somehow problems seem smaller and less impossible if he has him.

They are a team, a unit. A family.

Brendan thrusts into him unhurriedly, like they have all the time in the world.

When Ste whispers those three words, Brendan no longer looks shocked or appalled by them. They seem to give him more strength than he already has.

"I love you too."

He buries himself further into Ste, and he is left with the certainty that he could live the rest of his life like this. Exactly like this.

Present Day - 2nd November 2014

He is scared that he won't be able to breathe.

The tape is secured around him tightly, and the rope rubs against his skin when he tries to shake free of it. He knows it's pointless, that he is only causing himself more discomfort by trying to escape.

But escape is essential, because the alternative is terrifying.

Ste watches as Theresa makes a similar struggle beside him.

He doesn't understand why she's here. But he knows that he saw her only the other day, which means that whatever this is - an abduction, a friendly exchange gone horribly wrong - it can't have been a long ordeal.

She looks frightened, but not injured as far as he can tell. Make up is smeared around her face, and her captivity looks as extreme as Ste's, but she is intact, unbruised.

He tries to communicate to her, something, anything, but it is difficult when he has only his eyes.

Walker's words ring in Ste's ears.

He loves him. He thinks that Brendan has raped him.

He has been raped.

Every moment that they've spent together has now taken on a new edge.

The dance at Chez Chez. The meeting at this flat, where Walker was walking around in nothing but a towel.

He had tried to ignore it, to push it to the back of his mind.

It hadn't meant anything. He had seen Walker as a business partner of Brendan's, perhaps even a friend. He never posed the same threat as Warren or Danny.

Ste now realises that the threat is that much bigger. The lengths he will go to more personal.

He wonders if he should feel a semblance of anger towards Walker. He has got him here under false pretenses, making him believe that Brendan was in some kind of danger.

He has somehow involved Theresa in all of this, when she is an innocent party.

He holds a gun in his hand, and Ste doesn't doubt that he will use it.

Yet a part of him understands. He understands for himself, and he understands for Brendan.

He can't pretend to Walker that he knows what it's like to have been raped. But the pain etched on Walker's face is not unlike the same that marked his own years ago.

He wants to tell him what a mistake this would be. How hurting someone doesn't help. That he meant what he said to him. That people aren't always what they appear. That good vs bad doesn't exist.

But he can't say anything, and instead he listens to the low murmur of Walker's voice outside the door. He can't make out what he's saying, and his own phone is useless to him now. Even if Walker hadn't taken it, his hands could not even reach to call Brendan.

He feels helpless, defenseless.

He remembers when life had once seemed so bleak that he'd stood on scaffolding and wanted to jump down from it. Amy hadn't wanted him, his kids had been better off without him.

He'd wanted to end it all.

But he hadn't. A man, a priest, had talked to him. Convinced him that there was something worth sticking around for.

Now, he clings to life like it is precious. He doesn't want it to end like this, here, now.

He still has so many things to do.

He hears the sound of the door opening, and Walker coming back into the room. Ste can sense Theresa's terror from across the room.

"Your boys are on their way. Knights in shining armour, eh?"

Ste panics. Brendan, here? When Walker has a gun?

"So it's time that I got this show on the road."

He sounds like a man who is trying to be brave.

Ste has never had a gun aimed at him before. There is no running away from it.

"Goodbye, Ste."

He thinks of everything he loves, as if that will make this okay.

All the old, bad memories have been diluted by these last two years.

He has been a friend. He has been a father. A husband.

He closes his eyes, and waits for it to come. A bang, a white light. Even just black. A nothingness.

But he is still here. His heart is still beating.

Ste opens his eyes, and it's then that he sees it.

Walker hesitates.

He hesitates.