Chapter Thirty Seven
Sam decided it was time to open the club again; he was tired of hiding away from the world with only his thoughts for company. He stopped by Mitzeee's on the way there, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited. She opened the door abruptly with her coat on, as if she'd only just gotten home. Her eyes flashed anxiously but she recovered well, plastering a bright smile on her face.
"Sam, what's up?"
"I was wondering if you could work tonight," Sam began carefully, noting the way Mitzeee was dressed. He felt himself flush. "You look…" He trailed off, gazing at the ceiling.
Mitzeee fiddled nervously with her hair. "I can work, just give me an hour to sort out childcare."
Phoenix stepped up behind her then, wearing a suit and bow tie. Sam blinked, perplexed.
"Well look at you!" He said enthusiastically, bending down to Phoenix's level. "That's quite the bow tie, young man."
"Thank you," Phoenix answered shyly.
He straightened up again. "You been somewhere nice?"
"A wedding," Mitzeee said automatically. "Old friends, they aren't from around here."
"Oh, that must have been nice for you," Sam said awkwardly. "I haven't been to a wedding in years myself."
"It was… a long time coming," Mitzeee said, looking uncomfortable. "How are you doing? Without Ste?" She added.
Sam deflated, leaning against the doorframe for support. "It's not easy; I just hope he's okay."
"You look worried." Mitzeee frowned, looking at him more intently. "Is something wrong?"
Sam glanced behind himself warily. "Could I come in? It's rather… private."
"Yeah, sure," Mitzeee said, stepping back.
Sam settled on Mitzeee's sofa while she made them both a strong coffee. She handed him a mug, his fingers brushing the back of her hand in the process. Her skin felt warm to the touch and for once she didn't startle from the unexpected contact. Sam didn't like to unsettle her but she'd always seemed increasingly wary of him, especially since Brendan had returned.
She sat on the opposite chair, leaning forwards with her mug in her hand.
"What is it?" She asked, voice hushed to a near whisper. A strand of hair fell into her eyes. She tucked it behind her ear hurriedly, exposing the line of her cheek.
Sam blinked, distracted momentarily. "It's Steven," He began, swallowing as the realisation hit him again in the gut.
"Is he okay?" Mitzeee asked. It seemed strange, considering she'd probably heard from him when Sam hadn't. He pushed it aside.
"For now," He said without thinking. He continued quickly when Mitzeee appeared alarmed. "His step father is back."
Mitzeee absorbed the news, licking her teeth nervously. "His step dad?"
"You know of him?"
She shook her head, troubled. "Only that he's scum."
"That's right. He beat Steven and his mother when he was a child."
Mitzeee pursed her lips. "What does he want?" She straightened, her momentary panic passing before Sam's eyes. She was strong; Sam admired that in her, always had.
"He wants to speak to Steven."
"What for?" Mitzeee asked sharply.
"I don't know," Sam admitted, feeling helpless. He placed his mug on the side and clasped his hands together in front of him, his body wired with tension.
"Have you told him?"
"He's not taking my calls." Sam glanced up then, catching her guilty expression. "Have you spoken to him?"
"Yeah, he's fine. He doesn't want you to worry." Mitzeee wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Is he coming back?"
Mitzeee nodded, turning her face away from him.
"You mustn't tell him about Terry."
Mitzeee's gaze snapped to his. "Why? He has a right to know what he's coming home to."
"What if he doesn't?" Sam felt the words spill out before he could control them.
"Doesn't what?" Mitzeee asked slowly.
"Want to come home," Sam explained in a rush.
"Because of Terry?"
"Amongst other things."
Mitzeee chewed on her bottom lip, contemplating his words. "He should know still," She said eventually.
Sam bowed his head, feeling reluctant to agree even though he knew she was right.
"Brendan though…" Mitzeee trailed off uncertainly.
"How will he react?" Sam asked, genuinely curious.
Mitzeee met his gaze briefly. "How do you think?" She murmured.
They sat in silence for a while, both wrapped up in their own thoughts. Eventually Phoenix caught their attention, climbing up onto the sofa beside Mitzeee.
"What's wrong, Mummy?"
Mitzeee blinked, immediately collecting herself. "Nothing, sweetheart. We'd best get you changed for Nancy's."
"I want to stay with you," Phoenix wrapped his arms around her waist, holding on tight. "You're sad."
"Don't worry about coming in, I'll call someone else," Sam said quickly, standing up.
"I don't mind, Sam," Mitzeee said. She didn't sound entirely sure.
"Stay with your son," Sam said softly, attempting a smile. "It's no bother."
Mitzeee hesitated before nodding. Sam smiled tightly at her, heading for the door.
"Wait," Mitzeee called him back. Sam turned in surprise. "Stay with us a bit." She smiled kindly at him, still wary but genuine.
"You sure?"
Mitzeee nodded. "You can get cover, can't you? I'll make us dinner."
"I'd like that," Sam said, clearing his throat. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it." She smiled again, more relaxed this time.
"Would you like me to help?" Sam asked after Mitzeee had spent some time in the kitchen preparing dinner.
"Oh," She glanced up quickly as though surprised he was there. "You could keep an eye on dinner while I put Phoenix to bed."
"I had McDonalds on the way home," Phoenix said proudly.
Sam raised his eyebrows at Mitzeee who blushed a little, the extra colour making her even more beautiful.
"You didn't fancy it?" Sam asked, moving towards the kitchen.
"They don't sit right with me," Mitzeee explained. "More of a Burger King girl myself." Her eyes sparkled playfully.
"I'm not judging." Sam held up his hands, laughing a little.
"Better not be," Mitzeee said quietly, lips quirking into a smirk. "I'll just be a minute," She added, taking Phoenix by the hand.
Phoenix stopped short, turning back as though forgetting something. "Night, Sam," He said softly, hands over his mouth.
"Goodnight," Sam replied, feeling oddly touched.
Sam stood alone in the kitchen while he waited for Mitzeee's return. Her phone flashed from its place on the table moments after she left. Sam saw the name out of the corner of his eye: Ste. He felt himself seized with indecision, caught between desperately wanting to speak to his son and not wanting to destroy Mitzeee's trust. He hesitated, moving back and forth several times before he eventually moved out of the kitchen and sat back down. Mitzeee came out through the bedroom door a few minutes later.
"Everything okay?" She asked immediately, noticing Sam's tense posture.
"Your phone rang."
Mitzeee glanced quickly at the table. "Did you answer?"
"Of course not," Sam said levelly.
Mitzeee checked the screen, her face pinching with worry. "You wanted to though."
"Yes," Sam replied honestly.
Mitzeee tapped out a quick message, replacing her phone on the table when she had done so.
"Dinner's almost ready." She didn't sound as relaxed as before; his resistance still making her anxious.
"Would you like me to leave?" Sam asked, joining her in the kitchen.
"No, it's okay," She said calmly. "It's ready now."
They ate in silence; pasta in tomato and basil sauce. Sam wasn't much of a cook himself; Steven often made their dinner. He was proud of his son for being so talented but sometimes it made him ache, remembering everything he'd missed.
"Is it okay?" Mitzeee asked after a while.
"Mm, lovely," Sam said around a mouthful of food, accidentally dripping sauce onto his chin.
Mitzeee attempted not to smile but failed, holding out a tissue for him.
"Suits you." She teased as Sam wiped his mouth.
"Big improvement?" Sam chuckled.
"I don't know," Mitzeee said easily. "Maybe." She added, meeting his gaze directly.
Sam shifted, feeling the atmosphere alter in the room momentarily. He coughed, trying to ease the uneven rhythm of his heart pounding in his chest.
"It was lovely," He said awkwardly, putting his fork down. "I'll help you wash up."
"No need, dishwasher will do." Mitzeee stood up, taking his plate and her own. Sam composed himself while her back was turned, glancing at his watch. "Do you need to go?" She asked, turning at the wrong moment.
"I should probably get back," Sam replied, not wanting to overstay his welcome.
"Alright," Mitzeee said breezily. "Have you decided what to do about Ste?"
Sam scratched the back of his head. "I'll sleep on it; Terry seems to have disappeared for now."
Mitzeee nodded, the two of them standing awkwardly apart from each other.
"I'd keep your door locked, in case-" Sam cut himself off, feeling overly paranoid.
"Always do, Sam. Trust me." The tightness of her expression told Sam that she had seen her fair share of disruption and pain. He reflexively reached out to her but immediately thought better of it, pulling back.
"Sleep well," He said instead, making his way to the door.
"Sam?" Mitzeee said suddenly, drawing him back.
"Yes?"
"Be careful."
Sam was touched by her concern, mostly because he knew it came from a place of not wanting Steven to be hurt. He nodded, smiling tightly and exiting quickly before he said anything foolish. Once outside the flat he breathed out evenly, readying himself to take over the late shift at the club and drown out the thoughts pounding in his head.
He pushed away from the wall, phone in hand when he met the cool night air. He resisted the urge to call Steven, being true to his word about sleeping on it. Even as he relaxed in his walk towards the club, he still felt uneasy, like he was being watched. He shook himself, putting it down to paranoia and continued on his way.
Xxx
Ste turned his head to the side, peering in the darkness at the figure laid beside him. Hours earlier and they'd gotten married. Married. It was surreal to even think about it. Ste was too buzzed to sleep, turning constantly in the stiff, white linen. Eventually he flopped, limbs splayed across his side of the bed, weightless. He grinned at nothing in particular, feeling the familiar tightness in the pit of his stomach when he thought of Brendan and what they'd done.
They hadn't just gotten married, they'd become a part of each other. Unbreakable, as far as Ste was concerned.
He'd often thought of marriage as something binding, constricting. When he'd married Doug something had changed within him, like he was being pressed down and held still. He didn't feel that way with Brendan. He felt free, liberated. He supposed it also had something to do with his name change. He'd been branded a Hay from birth, not through any choice of his own. He'd been unsure of taking the name of Spencer because deep down as much as he loved his dad, he couldn't forget the neglect, however much he'd tried to find him. Choosing to be a Brady felt different. It felt right. Ste Brady. He'd chosen Brendan time and time again, forgiven more than any person rightly could and through that he'd found something he could call his own, truly his own. It didn't feel suffocating, it felt real.
"Why are ye still awake?" Brendan mumbled sleepily, rolling onto his side.
"I'm too excited," Ste explained, voice unnaturally loud in the quiet room.
Brendan cracked one eye open, looking at him in confusion. "I thought we sorted that earlier."
Ste blushed, grateful for the darkness. Whenever Brendan caught him blushing like that he made it his mission to make it worse; kissing him in the most tender of places, fingers finding their way to his ribs.
Brendan shifted closer towards him, breath ghosting across his face. He still smelt of toothpaste and the lingering tang of whiskey. His fingers found Ste's waist underneath the covers, drifting lightly across the skin.
"Looking for round two?"
"More like round three," Ste scoffed, but then Brendan's fingers were on his stomach and he felt the breath catch in his throat.
"What were ye really excited about then?" Brendan asked softly, pressing the palm of his hand against Ste's stirring cock.
"You," Ste breathed, profoundly grateful that they hadn't bothered to re-dress before bed. Brendan's hand rolled his balls in his palm, fingers splayed against the base of him.
"Is that right?" Brendan leaned across to pin him down onto the bed, face inches apart from Ste's own.
"It's just weird, init?"
"What?" Brendan pulled away a little to get a proper look at his face.
"Being married."
Brendan chuffed a laugh. "We've both been married before, Steven."
"Not like this though." Ste pointed out.
Brendan said nothing, staring at him thoughtfully. "Are ye telling me those were deep thoughts ye were having not-"
Ste pressed his lips firmly against Brendan's, swallowing the remainder of his sentence. When they broke apart to breathe, Brendan smiled knowingly. He gave Ste a push back onto the pillow, flinging the covers unceremoniously away from them.
He flicked the light switch on; the glow faint enough from one of the smaller lamps to not hurt their eyes, before he took in Ste's body.
"What to do with ye…" He murmured, sending a shiver of pleasure up Ste's spine. It was incredible that after all these years and separation he still inspired the same level of desire in him.
"Whatever you want; I'm yours aren't I?"
Brendan cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. "I thought we weren't doing that anymore."
"Tonight we can," Ste said, pulling himself up onto his elbows.
"Ye like that do ye? Show ye who's boss?"
"You know I do," Ste said, voice low.
"If ye insist." Brendan reached for the lube on the dresser, slicking his fingers up. Ste was still loose from the time before but he knew Brendan wouldn't take the risk of hurting him, or indeed missing out on the build up. "How's this?" Brendan asked, fingers rubbing and coaxing Ste open while he leaned on top of him, holding Ste firmly down.
"Good." Ste rasped, hips rising off the bed. Brendan held him still with one hand, effortless and powerful.
"How good?" Brendan pressed, hooking his fingers inside and stretching Ste's already slack muscles.
"You don't need to do that," Ste said unnecessarily.
"Says who? I thought I was in charge here." Brendan smiled, kissing Ste's cheek tenderly before moving his mouth down to his neck.
"You're getting off on this," Ste said wondrously. "I give you an inch-"
"I'll definitely be giving ye more than an inch," Brendan murmured, taking his hand from Ste's stomach to slick himself up instead.
"Cocky git," Ste rumbled, gasping when Brendan pulled his legs roughly apart.
"Not feeling too delicate are we?" Brendan teased, lining himself up.
"Yeah right." Ste smirked, and yet he winced a little as Brendan entered him. Brendan kept his pace slow, allowing Ste the time to adjust. "Go on then," Ste told him, pulling his knees back to his chest and tilting his pelvis. "Do your worst."
Brendan braced himself against Ste's knees, shifting his weight appropriately before he quickened his pace, pounding relentlessly into Ste. Ste felt his back rubbing against the bed sheets with each thrust. He laughed with delirium, grabbing Brendan's hands on his knees and clutching them tightly.
"Too much?" Brendan grunted, a thin sheen of sweat developing on his forehead.
"No way." Ste re-positioned his legs onto Brendan's shoulders, that familiar sense of smugness seeping through when Brendan's eyes glittered at his flexibility.
"You're incredible," He said breathlessly, control slipping. "And you're mine."
"I am." Ste groaned, hands fumbling to find Brendan's once more. "But you're mine too." He was surprised by the level of intensity to his words. He had never felt stronger in his conviction that Brendan was his. Maybe it had something to do with the wedding, or the fact that despite everything they'd found each other again. Later Ste even wondered about Seamus. He hated to think of the man, the rage almost too much to bear whenever his face appeared in his mind. Years without Brendan had hardened the part inside of him that wanted to kill the man who had done that to Brendan. Ste knew that if Cheryl hadn't done the job, he most certainly would have. He remembered dreaming about it constantly, one of the many nightmares that kept him awake at night. Hands around Seamus' throat, choking the breath out of him mercilessly. Sometimes he would make him bleed, like he no doubt had made Brendan bleed. The nightmares faded over time as the realisation sunk in that even if Brendan wasn't with him, Seamus was dead, gone forever. There was some comfort in that.
After their climax, Brendan pulled Ste against his chest, both of them sweaty and spent, hearts still clamouring to slow down. Brendan brushed the hair from Ste's forehead, his fingers trailing up and down Ste's bare arm.
"That was pretty…" Ste trailed off, smiling blissfully.
"Glad to hear it." Brendan's chest moved with his low rumble. He was content and sleepy once more; the perfect opportunity to get answers out of him.
"When are we going back, Brendan?" Ste glanced up at him when he felt Brendan tense, not answering his question. "Bren?" He tried again.
"Soon I guess." Brendan eventually answered. "In a hurry are ye?"
"Course not. I just wondered that's all."
"Declan's going back tomorrow." Brendan said. Declan was staying in the hotel too, a room away from theirs.
"So after that?" Ste pressed, keeping his face against Brendan's chest.
"Maybe." Brendan wrapped his arms tighter around him. "Sleep now though."
"But-"
"Steven," Brendan said warningly. Ste could already feel him slipping towards sleep. He pouted, annoyed at the lost opportunity. "Stop pouting, what is it?" Brendan asked.
"How did you know I was-"
"Steven," Brendan said again, waiting for him to reply.
"About going back." Ste sat up, looking at Brendan directly. He opened his eyes slowly, resigned that he wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon.
"What about it?"
"Maybe it could be temporary," Ste blurted out in a rush.
That got Brendan's full attention. "What do ye mean?" He sat up a little, alert.
"I've been thinking about it and maybe you were right before. Besides the obvious what do we really have to stick around for? That place just holds too many bad memories, you know?"
"What's brought this on?" Brendan asked curiously.
"I dunno, with the wedding and that it just felt like a fresh start. But we'll never get to move on if we stick around there."
"Demons follow ye, Steven. It's all in here." Brendan pointed to his temple.
"I know that. But what if something else happens? I'd feel… safer I guess if we stay away."
Brendan frowned, hands reaching for Ste. "Has someone scared ye?" He asked, voice tight and tense with emotion.
"No, nothing like that." Ste sighed. "Maybe it's stupid."
"It's not stupid, Steven." Brendan shook his head, looking thoughtful. "It's definitely something to think about."
"You were well up for it before, what's changed?"
"Nothing. I just want to make sure that you're doing this for the right reasons."
"What other reasons are there?" Ste challenged. "I know it'll be dead hard to leave Mitzeee and Phoenix but they can visit us whenever they want."
"And yer dad?"
Ste looked away, feeling his stomach clench. "The way he's been acting, it might be for the best."
"Still yer dad." Brendan laughed, surprised at himself. "I'm not even sure why I said that ye know."
Ste smiled softly, resting himself against Brendan's chest once more. "I'm not saying we have to leave straight away or anything. It's just something to think about, init?"
"If it's what ye really want then yes."
"I think it is," Ste said, swallowing thickly. "But I kinda need to go back soon to make sure."
Brendan let out a deep breath. "Okay, another couple of days and we'll go back, yeah? I wanna enjoy the rest of this first." His hand rested on Ste's hip.
"Deal." Ste pulled the covers over them. "You can sleep now." He added unnecessarily. He wasn't sure either of them would be able to sleep straight away with this on their minds.