Okay! Lo-o-ots of Stendan in this chapter! Hopefully a few things clarified! It's getting to the end now, but if there's anything you particularly want to happen, send me a message or put it in a review and I'll have a think! Enjoy!


Ste slipped a hand through his hair again, checking his reflection in the glass of the deli counter, pouting his lips a little. It just...it screamed try-hard, when he did that. Maybe if he just bit his own lips really hard they would puff up, get redder; be hotter. He tried it, and with a squawk of hurt he immediately released them from their painful hold and pressed his fingers to them instead. Okay, so that didn't work: he would have to come up with a new plan.

"Hello?" A voice asked, behind him, and Ste jumped again, eyes flashing to the petite blonde smiling awkwardly at him from the other side of the counter.

"Sorry, what can I do for you?" Ste flushed red. He had been caught trying to sexify himself, after all.

"I'll have the grilled pepperoni Panini, please." She asked, tapping her foot as she waited but not in a rude way, so Ste didn't mind.

"There you are," Ste finally handed over the change, which the girl accepted gratefully as she took a large bite from her food item.

"Fanks," she mumbled, making her way to the door. When she reached it, she turned around, smirking, "And, by the way, your lips are plenty pouty as it is already!" She winked at him, and Ste smiled back shyly, eyes twinkling.

Well, that was embarrassing, wasn't it?

He meant, it was always nice to be complimented – she had meant that as a compliment, right? – But it wasn't like he was trying to impress anyone, was it? He just cared about his appearance, that was all. Really, he hadn't even noticed his beauty regime. Same reason he hadn't noticed that he was wearing all his best clothes, rather than the uniform that he was supposed to wear. Same reason he didn't – or did he? – bat his eyelashes discreetly, in the vague direction of, oh, I don't know, maybe the club across the road? Maybe.

Like, it wasn't 100% sure, or anything.

It wasn't like he had anyone special in his life, in that thereabouts direction, was-

"Steven."

Ste stood up straight, his thoughts cut off abruptly as a grin split his face and his eyes flew to the door and – more specifically – the brawny, hairy, completely sexy Irishman entering through it.

"Brendan!" He greeted, gleefully. "Hi!"

Brendan grinned right back.

"Hi." He ducked his head, adorably, coming to stand with his hands resting on the counter.

His eyes met Ste's, and the electricity Ste could swear he felt actually hit him made his stomach clench in anticipation.

Oh, shit, he fancied this bloke so much.

"How are you?" Brendan asked softly.

Ste took a step forwards, leaning his body against the wood to hide the slightly obvious affect even Brendan's presence had on him. Okay, so it had been a while: he was taken, but he wasn't that taken. Actually, he wasn't technically taken in any sense of the word, but he still felt taken, and that was kind of the same as being taken, wasn't it? But he still hadn't been taken.

Ste stopped his musings.

"Brendan," he admonished jokingly. "That's what, the third time today?" They both looked to the clock – the long hand and the short nearly meeting to signal the beginning of Ste's rush hour.

Brendan simply smiled, "It's good to keep in touch. So how are you?"

Ste rolled his eyes – a customer entered – "Brendan. I'm fine. Now, go, I'm busy!" He rolled his eyes, again, at the customer, who snorted a breath of laughter in agreement to how stupid idiotic Irishmen were.

Brendan backed away, "Fine, fine!" He held up his hands in mock surrender.

Ste turned to the teenager, but as she gave her order his eyes followed the other man through the door and out into the street.

"Sorry, could you repeat that?" He apologised, when he realised that she had finished talking and he was too busy watching Brendan out of sight to have paid attention.

The girl grimaced, opening her mouth in faux-politeness –

Brendan opened the door, "I'm looking forward to tonight, by the way."

Ste blushed, "Me too."

Their eyes met, Ste's heart stuttered, Brendan left.

Ste looked to the girl, "Sorry, you were saying?"


The first time they saw one another, after

Cheryl's phone went through to voicemail, yet again, and Ste sighed in frustration, glancing up at the impervious brick wall that blocked his view of her blue door from the deli. He understood, ok, that they would need time. He got that Joel was working to keep the club steady by himself, because Cheryl couldn't face going in; he saw Walker doing the daily shop every morning because she didn't want to – couldn't – see and accept the pity in people's eyes if they recognised her. She had been back three days, and he hadn't seen her once since she had tearfully left the deli.

Or Brendan, since their eyes met over the road.

It was weird: since the Irishman's return and Ste's subsequent epiphany that he loved Brendan he had stopped thinking about it so much. It hurt less, now that he had recognised it. Maybe that was what he had been missing the whole time – right from the beginning there had always been something in the way of Ste's love for Brendan: his head, the rest of his heart. And now his heart was wholly given, and Ste felt more peaceful than he had in a long time. Peaceful enough to go home that evening and tell Kyle that they couldn't be together, and why, and not cry when his boyfriend walked out with his belongings.

Ste sighed, turning to lock up the deli, and as he did so he heard footsteps behind him.

Brendan hadn't noticed him yet – he was watching his feet pound down the stone steps and sticking iPod earphones into his ears roughly, and Ste took the moment to admire the way his neck curved into his broad shoulders, the swell of his chest, the tight muscles of his arms visible. Something low in Ste's stomach clenched.

Brendan glanced up and their eyes met.

"Hello," Ste said in amusement, subtly mocking the stunned look on his companions face.

Brendan's face curled into embarrassment, "Hi there." He replied dryly, shoving the iPod into his tracksuit pockets and taking the last few steps to stand closer to Ste.

"Finally leaving your lair?" Ste asked, and there was a trace of surly about him as he remembered that this man had made no effort to get in touch. "Why?"

Brendan shuddered, not entirely theatrically, "Chez and Walker got a bit...busy. And loud." He shuddered again. "So I decided..." he gestured to his work-out clothes, the bulge in his pocket with his music already on his running playlist.

Ste took the gesture as an invite to look him over once again, slowly. Each part of Brendan was such a vivid memory, it felt almost as if they were there and then:

His hands, pulling Ste's legs over his shoulders, rough to touch but so gentle with Ste's smaller frame, touching him like he was exquisite glass

His chest, hair poking over the top of his top, startling black against the white, coarse against Ste's softer skin and so incredibly wide

His lips, pulling at Ste's skin, marking it as his own

His eyes, full of lust.

Though, Ste thought smugly, that wasn't just a memory: he met the Irishman's hooded, heady gaze straight on, challengingly, and they both knew what the other was feeling.

So? Brendan's though hung in between them.

Ste's answer didn't need words and in a flash they had both considered the unlocked deli door, the office in the club just across the road, the apartment only metres away.

Brendan ducked his head, blushing slightly, "Some things don't change, eh?" He met Ste's eyes again, hopefully and tentatively.

"Some things do," Ste replied, not sure what he was saying himself but knowing that some games just had to be played. He took a final step in, leant up on his tiptoes and landed a light kiss on Brendan's cheek, lips lingering there so that he could hear his love's breathing and feel with the hand placed on his chest the Irishman's heart beat faster.


"Yes?" Ste asked for the final time, stepping out of his room and opening his arms wide, biting his lip as he smiled at Amy, who looked up from her place reading a magazine on the countertop.

"Good," she nodded her approval.

Ste rolled his eyes internally. Good. Excellent, that was great; now he really knew which of the three 'good' items she had declared he should wear.

"Well, I'm not getting changed again, so..." He stropped back into his room.

He could nearly hear Amy roll her eyes behind him as he shut the door.

He loved Amy, of course, and he understood why she might not be overjoyed about all of...this. But, really, he knew what he was doing. Or maybe he didn't, and that was the whole point. And anyway, who even cared? What difference did it make?

Ste searched for the hair gel he knew he left upon his chest of drawers, opposite the mirror. He was sure he had put it there. Hastily, his hands knocked aside various bits and pieces that had taken up residency there, scrambling for what he was looking for. When the foil package fell to the floor, he picked it up absently, mind elsewhere.

"Dad, when are you going?" Leah barged in roughly, not bothering to knock, gum in her mouth and her hair tied messily in a bun atop her head. Ste smiled at that – her attempt to be adult (really, she was still the little girl he had held as a baby).

"Brendan's coming at about seven," he reminded her. "Have you seen my hair gel?"

Leah didn't answer, flopping onto the bed. "It's so embarrassing that you're dating."

Ste smirked, throwing it over his shoulder as he searched, "What, am I too old?"

"My friend Shawnee says that her mum brings a new boyfriend home every week." Leah told him matter of factly, leaning back to stare at the ceiling.

"Well," Ste turned to face her, taking a seat on the end of his own bed, "be glad I'm not her."

"I did tell her," Leah informed him, "that it wasn't like that between you and Brendan. That even when he was in Ireland he was still The One." She drew out the words the way only a nine year old could: blissfully unaware that she didn't have a clue what she was on about.

Ste smiled. The One.

"And I told her that Brendan was really nice," Leah smiled at her dad brightly. "And that he was really handsome and muscled, and that he was really rich."

"Good to know you've got your priorities in the right order," Ste commented dryly, slightly worried about what else his daughter had disclosed.

But Leah was distracted now, "What's that?" She asked, peering at what was closed in Ste's fist, resting on his thigh. "Ew! Dad!" She complained, even as Ste looked down. "Gross!" She leapt to her feet, slamming the door behind her as she rushed out, blushing wildly.

Ste laughed quietly, tucking the condom into his back pocket.


The second time they saw one another, after

Ste went over for a drink.

Ste went over to check on Cheryl.

Okay, so he'd had a drink quite recently, and he may have seen Cheryl and Walker get in Walker's car and drive somewhere, but he also might not have – he wasn't entirely sure, and he had some time on his hands anyway so he might as well go and check.

Brendan opened the door, leaning against the frame and taking in the sight of Ste, hip cocked to one side because he'd been standing all day and lip crushed between two teeth.

"Steven," he drawled.

"God, say it again," Ste teased dramatically – or, at least, he passed it off as a tease, and received a smile in return. He pushed lightly on Brendan's chest, backing the elder man away from the door and stepping inside. "Is Cheryl here?" He asked, glancing around as though the bubbly blonde would be there and he wouldn't be able to hear her.

"She went out with Walker," Brendan informed. "Drink?" He offered, a second later, meandering into the kitchen area.

"Ta," Ste thanked, taking a seat at the table to watch Brendan make the teas.

"So, what, you living here now?" He asked innocently, taking a sip as Brendan set his down before him.

"For now," Brendan agreed, taking the chair opposite. He elbows slid onto the table, and it seemed like the moment was dragged out forever – Ste's racing heart heard every nuance of the movement.

"How's that going?" Ste asked.

Brendan just looked at him. Really? His eyes asked the question.

Ste nodded awkwardly, "Right. Sorry."

Brendan shook his head, "Don't ever be, how many times?"

Ste clicked his teeth together, their eyes locked together as he tried to convince himself to decide whether or not to say it; either way, it would be said eventually.

"What?" Brendan decided for him, nudging Ste in the direction he wished to go in.

"Thing is...I'm going to be sorry, sometimes." Ste said. Brendan frowned, clearly not understanding, and Ste tried to shed some light: "I'm going to be sorry, and I'm going to be stroppy. We'll argue about you staying out too late and me chatting with customers too enthusiastically, and we'll both get jealous every now and then and we'll bicker sometimes over stupid little things."

Brendan had caught on, and he joined in, "And I'll make mistakes and not know how to fix it, but you'll help me work it out and I'll learn from that."

"And you'll be nervous about me meeting your kids, still, and I'll get that."

"And Amy will still be cross."

"And Cheryl will be overjoyed."

"And we'll find some place close by – near the centre of Chester, not too far from work and close to Chez and your kids."

"It'll be quite small, but still spacious, with a spare couple of rooms for the kids."

"And you'll want to make it all colourful, and I really won't care."

"And I'll make our first meal in together, and you'll be there trying to eat before I've finished and I'll bat you away, and you'll nudge me back, and then we'll end up christening the kitchen floor and the food will be ruined."

"And neither of us will be upset about it, because..." Brendan's voice trailed off.

Ste finished for him, "Because we love each other that much."

Brendan's eyes on Ste were full of something so intense that it made Ste hurt to look: silently, he rounded the wood between them and wrapped his arms around Brendan's neck. Brendan pressed his face into Ste, and his hot tears fell over the younger man's collarbone as he wept.


"What did she say?" Ste demanded, the second the door clicked shut behind him, grabbing onto Brendan's arm to slow their pace as he stared into his date's face, worry and shame carved into his own.

Brendan smoothed a finger over Ste's forehead, "Nothing undeserved."

Ste could well guess what that meant. How sneaky of Amy, to use Leah as a distraction to cross-examine Brendan.

"Seriously, what?" He asked, ducking into Brendan's car and waiting for him to clamber in the driver's seat.

Brendan sighed, "Well obviously, she warned me off the," he gestured, to demonstrate hitting.

Ste nodded, having nothing else to say on the subject. Brendan hitting him these days seemed so far removed that it was ludicrous. "And?"

"And she said that I had to treat you tonight." Ste rolled his eyes. "And" – Brendan started the car – "she told me that if I didn't love you every bit as much as you loved me that she would find me and kill me herself." For the first time, Brendan looked directly at Ste.

"Oh," Ste's voice was small.

Brendan smirked, "It won't be a problem," he promised, and he accelerated away from the kerb and Amy's watching eyes.


The third time they saw one another, after

Ste had woken up, terrified. It was a recurring nightmare, for him: Lucas, and the man who featured in the papers he read so avidly recently.

Usually, Ste would kick off his duvet and go to watch his little son sleep for a few minutes, assuring himself that that would never happen to his boy, that that nightmare belonged to another, far more unlucky person – his heart went out to them, but at the same time he was relieved that it wasn't him.

Tonight, Lucas was at Amy's.

Ste lay in bed, heart pounding, certain that Cillian was bending over Lucas' bed as he thought of it.

Ste hated him so viscerally it scared him a little.

He couldn't call Amy to check, obviously: they would be asleep, for one, and for two he knew that she would read it as an insinuation that she could not do her parenting role as well as he could, which he would never suggest, ever.

Instead, Ste's hand reached to the side and fumbled for the phone he knew was lying there, waiting for him.

He keyed in Brendan's number, hastily.

"Steven?" The Irishman was clearly still half asleep, his already gravelly voice weighed down with the weight of it. It was incredibly sexy, and Ste curled into a ball, glad for Brendan's smooth, reassuring masculinity.

"Hi." Ste whispered. "Come over?"

Brendan didn't need asking twice. Oh, he grumbled a little, asking why and tutting down the line, but Ste could hear him in the background, slipping out of bed and sliding his tracksuit over his legs, his top over his chest, his feet into trainers and grabbing his keys as he left.

Ste didn't have to wait long, after that: Brendan's car parked smoothly, and Ste was waiting with the door open to invite the Irishman in.

They didn't go to bed – neither of them even made a move towards it. Instead, Ste put on a film that neither watched, and Brendan made a round of coffee that went undrunk. Instead, their voices filled the crevices inside one another left void by tragedy, until light appeared and they woke, wrapped around one another shamelessly, tight under the duvet.


"Brendan!" Darren greeted in surprise, eyes flickering somewhere between Brendan's moustache and his eyes, then to Ste. "Haven't seen you about much, recently!"

Brendan placed their order: water for him, lager for Ste.

Ste got them a table, and watched as Brendan waited for their drinks to arrive. He was guiltlessly impatient, his eyes finding Ste's every few seconds, his body tilted in the direction of the man he was with.

"Cheers," he was already walking away from Darren, payment on the bar and drinks in his hands.

"Took his time didn't he?" He remarked to Ste, sliding into the booth beside him, handing him his drink.

Ste resisted pointing out that only two minutes had passed between their arrival and their current positions, taking a sip instead.

It was one of the many things unearthed between them recently: the truth about Brendan's drinking. Really, it hadn't surprised him much – Brendan always had been a heavy drinker, and he could well see that, with the right trigger, he could spill over the edge and lose control of the habit.

It still astounded him that he, him, Steven Hay, was a powerful enough trigger.

Losing him had made Brendan an alcoholic.

"You ok?" Brendan asked, bringing Ste out of his reverie, his voice gentle in Ste's ear.

Ste looked into Brendan's eyes, heart in this throat so painful that he couldn't contain it any longer, "I love you."

Brendan blinked in surprise at the declaration, his fingers on the nape of Ste's neck stilling a little.

What was Ste thinking? They hadn't even really gotten back together! This was their first date!

Brendan kissed him.

It wasn't a heavy kiss – even Ste found that amount of PDA distasteful – but it was intense. It was a thousand emotions poured into one, a million instances that should have played out. It was lips trembling on his, slight suction, fingers clenched on his jaw but not holding it.

Ste gasped as Brendan withdrew, eyes blazing.

He had forgotten, or never truly appreciated, how powerful Brendan's kiss was.

They were both aware that they were now being watched – Darren, Jack and Nancy behind the bar, several McQueen's in the corner, some uni students that Ste couldn't remember the names of with Brendan's touch still on his skin.

"I love you, too." Brendan replied, sincerely.


There you go! Hope you liked it! This chapter goes to PatriciaJessic, who was simply incredible with her reviews, but thanks, too, to anyone else who posted one or followed or favourited! It means a lot! ~Meli