Frank waited anxiously all week but no news came of his imminent sacking and so he decided to just go to work as normal on Saturday and see what happened. He cautiously wandered through the doors, vaguely worried that someone might just jump at him and shove him back out again. But he made it through into the locker room without incident. Naturally, there was no one else in there; either they all got there incredibly early or there was some sort of law that no one had told Frank, about getting to your job before the time you're meant to. He sorted himself out then walked back into the main restaurant, joining the rest of the staff, including Stephen. He tried to catch his eye and ask him how he managed everything, but their boss started speaking and it was impossible. Not wanting to upset them any more than he already had, he listened intently.

For the rest of the day, Frank kept trying to find a moment where he could ask Stephen what had happened, but either Stephen was avoiding him or Frank was just very unlucky, because he never found even a chance. However, everyone else seemed to know something that he didn't.

Stephen kept his head down at work on Saturday. He was pretty sure that everyone knew by now what he had done – or claimed to have done – apart from Frank, and he would like to keep it that way. So he stayed out of everyone's way, feeling their degrading stares, and especially dodging Frank so that he would never have to tell him anything. Because he just knew that Frank would be angry.

Ok. This was getting ridiculous. Stephen was literally doing U-turns to avoid Frank. And the way that everyone else was looking at him. What the hell was going on?

Phew. Only five minutes to go and then Stephen was free and had managed to survive the day without too many problems. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that Frank would find out sooner or later, but he convinced himself that everything would go back to normal next week and he simply had to get through the day.

Suddenly, the boss called them all over. "Right." He announced. "Stephen, could I ask you to stay behind; you're being put on cleaning tonight. Everyone else is free to go."

Stephen sighed and nodded obligingly. He should have known that there would be something.

Frank blinked. That was weird. Normally everyone had to chip in with cleaning. And they never only had one person doing it. It was like they were… punishing him… What had he done? If anyone should be being punished, surely it was Frank?

And then Frank put two and two together.

Oh god.

What had he said on Frank's behalf that meant he got to keep his job but Stephen got put on disgraced cleaning?

Frank followed everyone else into the locker room, trying to listen in to their conversations, taking as long as he possibly could. He couldn't hear exactly what they were all muttering, but he was pretty sure he heard Stephen's name, linked with his own, linked with the fat, old man from last week. Gradually, they all began to disperse, until only Frank was left, still dressed in his work clothes. He headed out into the main room, where Stephen was scrubbing away at the tables.

Stephen had quietly got to work, accepting the fact that he simply had to do this. He had got all the cleaning equipment from the cupboard and began with the tables, refusing to look up as his colleagues all left, hearing his name passing through the crowd like a disease. He didn't want to see their disappointed faces. But most of all, he didn't want to see Frank.

"Stephen." Came Frank's voice from behind him. He whirled around, to find a confused, almost hurt look upon the face of someone usually so tough.

"Frank? What are you still doing here? I thought you would have left ages ago?" Stephen exclaimed, blushing, trying to cover up his awkwardness with chitchat. As was the British way.

"What did you do?" Frank ignored Stephen's ramblings.

"What do you mean?" Stephen tried, even though he knew it was a failed attempt.

"What did you do, or say you did, to get me out of trouble? Cos I swear to God, Stephen, that if you did something that in any way endangered you for the sake of me then…"

"Hah. What? No. Er.." Stephen turned away and tried to continue cleaning.

"What did you say, Stephen?" Frank pressed, coming up behind him and taking away his brush.

"Nothing!" Stephen protested, trying to take the brush back, but failing as Frank pulled it away from his grasp again and again.

"Just tell me. I know that you did something. It's pretty obvious. I'm not stupid, Stephen."

Fuck. Frank really knew how to talk his way round people. Stephen sighed.

"Fine."

There was a pause.

"I maybe, sort of, kinda told them that I was to blame for your outburst because I wanted to get you sacked. That I had been winding you up all day and putting you down at work and everything. And that I even did something to the man's food to make him complain, right at the very end. But then I realised what I had done was wrong and so tried to stop you." He gushed.

Frank stared at him.

"They were quite annoyed but said that so long as I never did it again, I could stay. It probably helped that I 'owned up'. And that I stopped you. But, I mean, I thought that it was quite good, like plausible, because we were always fighting and what not…" he trailed off. "Er, Frank?"

Frank swallowed, not quite believing his ears. He couldn't believe that Stephen had done that. For him.

He slowly became aware that he was shaking. And that Stephen was staring at him, cautiously.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" Frank spat, the words coming out more violently than intended. Fuck.

"I… I don't know." Stephen hesitated. And it was true; he didn't really know. There was just something about Frank when he had been all… gah anyway.

"Don't you ever fucking dare do anything like that again, do you hear me?" Frank charged forward and grabbed Stephen's collar, shaking him. "Understand?"

Stephen nodded frantically, slightly terrified. He knew Frank would react this way.

"Good." Frank released him, stepping back and trying to calm himself down. "Right. Ok. Now. Now, you are going to go home and let me do all the cleaning."

"But then they'll just think that I made you do it." Stephen pointed out.

"Fine. You sit there while I clean."

"Still…"

"Gah, ok then. If you're so bloody keen to clean, then fine. But I am helping and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Stephen considered for a moment, before deciding this was the best he was gonna get. Hah. They had to be the only teenagers to fight over doing the cleaning as opposed to not doing it.

They got to work in amicable silence, wiping and polishing the tables, before starting on the floor.

And that's where the trouble started. You see, cleaning the floor required water with a product in which formed bubbles. And where there are bubbles, there's trouble. Especially when you have those bubbles in the presence of two teenage boys with serious sexual chemistry.

Frank started it. Stephen swore on his life. He was just innocently mopping away, when suddenly, bam! A whirlwind of bubbles sprung up into the air.

Stephen started it. Frank swore on his life. He was just dipping his mop in the bucket, when he looked up, and there were bubbles everywhere! And, come on now, what else was he supposed to do?

Immediately, Stephen squealed, vision obscured by the glinting, glimmering jewels of air, and grabbed his mop to wield it precariously in front of him. On instinct, Frank returned the action, snatching up a dustpan shield for good measure, and grinning wickedly.

He threw down his duster dramatically, before announcing "I challenge thee to a duel."

Stephen bent down to pick up the rag, looking Frank in the eyes as he did so. That was his first mistake.

Frank's eyes widened as he watched Stephen move.

"Challenge accepted." he pronounced. That was his second.

They lunged at each other, brandishing their mops like swords, laughing manically. They danced through the bubbles, kicking them up in each other's faces and spinning and twirling on the slippery floor. So many times, one of them nearly fell, but the other was always there to catch them, only to dart off again and continue the game.

They ended up in a face off over a table, teasing and jumping this way and that. It could have gone on forever quite enjoyably, had Frank not realised that he could reach over the table and seize Stephen's mop. He tugged it jerkily, causing Stephen to naturally try and follow after it. Which only allowed Frank to grip his waist and pull him flat against his body in a deadlock hold.

"Do you surrender?" Frank breathed in his ear, heart beat racing.

"I will never surrender!" Stephen exclaimed, fireworks exploding down his spine from the contact.

"Then prepare to be finished!" Frank declared, suddenly stepping back, leaving Stephen standing in surprise.

He turned to see what was going on…. to be ambushed by a cloud of bubbles.

Shrieking, he grabbed a handful himself and hence the bubble war began. Mops lay discarded on the floor while they smothered the other in an onslaught of wet, shiny, sticky bubbles. The tactics they used were… dubious… to say the least. Some might even say they were downright dirty. Often, Frank would corner Stephen, pressing their bodies flush together, only to have him wriggle slightly and his entire resolve collapse around him, Stephen skipping merrily free. Similarly, Stephen used close proximity to keep Frank occupied, darting his body closer and closer, distracting him until he suddenly unleashed a horde of bubbles into Frank's face or down Frank's shirt.

Eventually, Frank used his years of fight training (eg playground brawls) to get the upper hand in one on one wrestling. He pulled Stephen down to the ground, pinning both his hands above his head.

"Now, do you surrender?" he pressed, smirking victoriously.

"Never! I will never surrender! You can take my life but you can never take my freedom!" Stephen proclaimed, theatrically.

"That doesn't even make sense in this context." Frank pointed out.

"Whatever, it sounds good." Stephen laughed and stuck his tongue out mischievously.

Which only drew attention to his mouth, making it even more difficult for poor Frank to avoid looking at. And thinking about. And imagining what it would be like to…

No. Stop. Focus.

"But, either way, you're going to have to surrender. I see no way out of this for you, young man." Frank raised an eyebrow cockily.

"Don't speak too soon."

Stephen had an idea. He just didn't know how well it would go down. He tried to wriggle his way out, twisting this way and that, but Frank would not budge.

"Face it, Carmichael, I'm stronger than you. There's no way out." Frank laughed.

"Well then, Frankie. I'm afraid you leave me no choice. I demand you release me, or I will be forced to do the unthinkable." Stephen opened his brown eyes wide.

"What could you possibly do to me right now?" Frank tried not to think of all the possibilities. Especially not with Stephen so… close.

"So many things, Frank. So many, many things." Stephen winked.

Dammit. Frank squeezed his eyes tightly shut, forcing out all the mental images that sprung to his head.

"What did you have in mind?" he heard his voice say, only a little husky.

Was he… was he flirting with Stephen Carmichael? Was he actually flirting? With Stephen Carmichael?

"If you don't move off of me right now, Frank Grayson…" Stephen began, before taking a deep breath, more nervous than he was letting on.

Frank tried to ignore the shivers that he got from hearing Stephen say his full name.

"I will be forced…" Stephen leant up and whispered right into Frank's ear. There was no going back now. "To kiss you."