They have a guest, a late arrival.
"Room for one more?"
"Lynsey!" Douglas rushes to the door, seeming to gather his composure at the last moment, stopping short of putting his arms around her. There's a moment of discomfort as they both stare out into the corridor, checking for passers by, for someone who might have heard Douglas's overly enthusiastic greeting.
The coast must be clear, because they visibly relax. Lynsey stares around the room, sharing a smile with Brendan. Steven notices that she doesn't smile at him.
"Just thought I'd drop by. I'm done for the day, so."
"So come in. Join the party." Ethan holds up a paper cup, adding "it's water," when Lynsey stares at it suspiciously.
"I really shouldn't. It would look a bit weird, your teacher gatecrashing."
"Stay for one song." Douglas says persuasively. "One of my songs." He stares towards the sound speaker, raising his eyebrows at Brendan's music still playing.
Brendan lets it slide. It's been too long since he talked to Lynsey. Having her here always reminds him of being back with Cheryl, of teasing and inside jokes that only they'll understand; it's a product of being locked up for five years. You start creating your own fun, otherwise there's nothing else.
Douglas changes the music, and Steven moves to talk to him, giving Brendan a knowing look, seeing Lynsey making a beeline for him.
There's a moment when they almost hug, before Lynsey pats his arm.
"How are you?"
"Fine."
"Really?" She doesn't sound like she believes him, always has been too perceptive for her own good. "I heard about you going to talk to Walker."
"News travel fast in this place, huh?" He drinks from his cup, wishing that he had something stronger.
"Are you okay? Must have been tough, after everything that's happened."
"Not really." He can hear the defensiveness in his voice, hates when he gets like this; hard, cold. It's become an instinct, something that he has to consciously try and control.
Lynsey knows him too well to be fooled. Sometimes he wishes she didn't.
"You and Walker went through a lot together."
He releases a breath, feeling like he's letting go of some of the tension he's been holding. He shouldn't find this difficult. Walker fucked him over, almost took Steven away. He should of wanted to say goodbye.
But before Steven, and before Vincent, there was only Walker. Days without any visits from Cheryl, and trying to keep his kids away, knowing that Eileen hated him. All he had was him.
"I hope...I hope he's okay. I hope wherever he goes, he doesn't...suffer." It's the most he can say. The words feel stuck in his throat. He quickly changes topic, asking Lynsey about her teaching, about anything that doesn't hurt.
He can see Douglas glancing over at them. If the boy thinks that Brendan's a bad influence on her, then it's a bonus. Brendan revels in it, laughing when he'd usually smile. Jesus, he's even flirting.
Just as he's taking a strand of hair away from Lynsey's face, Steven appears behind his shoulder, moving between them, almost causing Lynsey to stumble back.
"Careful!" Brendan makes a grab for her cup to ensure it doesn't fall over.
"Sorry," Steven says, a little too loudly, Brendan thinks. "Just thought I'd check in. See how you are."
"I'm fine."
"I'm talking about Lynsey." Steven turns to her. "Listen, about Doug -"
"And his black eye." She says it under her breath, not looking at him.
"Yeah, that. I'm proper sorry, I swear. I didn't mean to do it. I mean I did, but - well, you know what I'm trying to say."
"You sure there's no alcohol in that thing, Steven?" Brendan glances into his cup, wondering whether he's managed to sneak some vodka in there.
"No!" The boy's eyes are full of fire, expression indignant. "Anyway, you're interrupting."
Brendan does a zipping his mouth gesture, staring between Steven and Lynsey, half exasperated, half amused.
"I just want to say, I'm really happy for you. You know, because Doug will be getting out soon, won't he? And then all of this won't have to be this massive secret anymore."
Lynsey stares around, panicked, hushing Steven. He giggles, as though only just realising.
"You two can go on dates, go to the cinema - You like the cinema, don't you Bren?"
"Yes, Steven. I like the cinema." He has no idea where the boy's going with this.
"Cos me and Brendan - we might never have that. We might never get to go to the cinema, or to a restaurant, or to see my kids together. But you and Doug will, and that's really great. Really great..." He trails off, the light dying from his eyes. There's an excruciating silence between them, and not even the sound of Douglas's music blaring can make it less uncomfortable.
Brendan puts a hand on Steven's shoulder, concern rippling through him. This has come out of nowhere. Or did he miss something? Now that Walker and Warren and Silas have gone, should he have expected this? There's nothing left to concentrate on now. No threat or danger, and the fact that they have so little time together can't be pushed to the side anymore. It's the elephant in the room, taunting them with its ticking clock.
"You want to get out of here for a second?"
Steven nods, looking dazed. The reality of what he's said seems to hit him. He can barely look at Lynsey.
"Sorry. I don't know what... Sorry."
She smiles at him sympathetically as Brendan leads him from the room, and he knows without having to explain that she understands. She's seen this before with men in here; she just never thought it would happen to Brendan. That he'd be the one who couldn't let someone go.
They need to find somewhere private. Brendan suggests the gym; its not exactly the atypical place for a conversation, but it's more or less empty this time of day, and Brendan knows that people will be reluctant to go there when they see him. He's the only person left in this place that people are truly scared of.
Steven agrees, but stops him before they even reach the corridor. He's standing very still, looks alert as though he's assessing something, and Brendan feels his skin growing cold, the silence stretching on to an unbearable extent. His questions go unheard; Steven just stands there, and Brendan begins to wonder if he'll need to call someone, if he needs to get help. Maybe Desmond -
"I don't want to go to the gym." His voice is meek, fearful. "I want to go to the library."
Brendan's never become so nauseous in such a short amount of time. It feels as though the air around him is stifling, like a black fog engulfing him.
No. No, he can't let him.
"I can't let you do that." He speaks slowly, feels like he'll be sick if he moves or speaks too quickly.
"Why not?" Steven's not even looking at him; he's staring towards the library, captivated by it, as though it holds something he needs.
"Because I love you," Brendan says, voice twisting in pain.
Steven looks at him then, and he's so full of bravery, but he's still just a boy. Barely more than a kid, and he's been through so much, too much. Brendan won't see him go through that kind of suffering again.
"You don't want to do this. Trust me." He couldn't go back to Seamus's old house, to where he grew up. He sees that as the true scene of the crime; not the place where he killed his father. His bedroom was where it all began. Where Seamus made him the man he is today.
"I know I don't want to do this. But I have to."
"Steven - please." He's shaking, wants to run from here, but he never runs. Not from anything. "If you're trying to get some kind of closure..." He shakes his head, please don't, not like this. It's not even whether Steven's strong enough to do this: it's whether he is.
"Come with me. I can't do this alone."
Brendan can't refuse him, not when the boy's looking at him for strength. He's depending on him, and the reality of that is both the best and worst thing Brendan's ever felt. It's a pressure weighing on his shoulders, but he'd forgotten what it was like for someone to depend on him so fiercely. He'd achieved what he'd set out to do, pushing Declan and Padraig away. Even during visits with Cheryl he says the bare minimum, terrified that he'll let something slip, that she'll find out he's not the person she thinks he is.
"I'll be here the entire time, okay? I won't leave you." He doesn't want to be the kind of person who lets people down anymore, and it feels worth it, watching the gratitude and relief spread across Steven's face. The steps he takes are tentative, but Brendan's never seen him this determined. He lets him lead the way, not wanting to do anything to interfere. This has to be on his terms.
The quietness of the library reminds them of that day. Brendan fights to stay alert, doesn't want to be bombarded with memories. He concentrates on the mundane: the wallpaper. The small section of books that have been left scattered to the side, as though pushed to the floor and forgotten. The cliched nature of the new librarian, all thick rimmed glasses and dowdy clothing.
He tries not to look at the storage cupboard, but he can see Steven searching for it.
"You can leave any time you want." Brendan reminds him gently.
"Not until I've gone in there."
It takes all of Brendan's restraint not to stop him. He thought that they'd stay for a few minutes and go; he hadn't expected Steven to want to return to the exact spot. He desperately hopes that it looks different since the police came and cleaned up after Walker's attack. Perhaps it will be easier, will trigger less inside Steven.
Steven looks back at him, as though asking for permission. Brendan nods, encouraging him to move forward, even when everything inside him is screaming at him to stop.
Steven's hand hesitates around the door handle. The veins running across his skin are prominent; Brendan's noticed how they get like that when the boy's anxious. He doesn't know whether talking will help, or whether he needs Brendan to be a silent bystander. He settles for saying nothing, trusting that Steven will let him know what he wants.
The room looks tiny. It seems impossible that anything ever happened in here at all, that it could fit all three of them. It's so ordinary, misleading in its simplicity. Brendan doesn't know what he expected - it never was more than just a room, but it seems wrong that people could come in here and have no idea what happened, how their world shifted overnight.
Steven steps in slowly, hands reaching out to touch the walls and the shelves. Dust comes off them. It's only been a few weeks since this place was cleaned, but it gets dirty quickly. The dust makes it feel more eery, as though it's further evidence that they shouldn't be here. It's like being in a ghost town; Brendan wouldn't be entirely surprised if Warren and Silas walked in right now.
"I can't believe..." Steven clears his throat, back to Brendan. "It's mad, isn't it? That it happened. That we're still alive."
"I don't think they ever intended to kill us."
"No?"
"No. Silas has a type." Even now he can still remember the way he looked at Lynsey - Cheryl too, when she came to visit, unhidden disgust in his eyes, and the sense that he was going to do something about it, that a plan was already forming in his mind. "And Warren wanted us to suffer. He would of thought that death was too easy. Too good for us."
Steven turns to face him. The sleeves of his jumper are rolled up, and Brendan can see that the bind marks from around his wrists have almost faded completely. Steven sees him looking, and roughly tugs the material down.
"I remember wishing he'd killed me. When it was happening...I just wanted it to end."
"I know." He remembers. He remembers everything. But he doesn't want to talk about it - can't.
Steven slides onto the floor. Brendan can see the dust collecting around him, knows that they'll be a stain on his trousers. The boy looks tiny with him bearing down on him, and he moves down on the floor with him, back against the wall.
"Say something."
He'd been relying on Steven, on how he's never been lost for words.
"Say what?"
"Anything. Just something to distract me."
"Alright. What was all that about before, with Lynsey?"
Steven had closed his eyes, but he opens them now, peering at Brendan and looking like he's regretting having asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You seemed..." He struggles with the words. He knows what he wants to say, but it sounds like nonsense in his head. "Jealous."
Steven's reaction is what he'd been expecting. He brushes the remark off, laughing with derision.
"Jealous?"
"Yeah." He doesn't entirely mind if he was.
"No. No."
"Good. Because that would be...I'm gay, obviously, so...there's nothing for you to worry about, and - what are you smiling at?"
"I'm not."
"Yeah, you are. You're smiling." He still is, despite his protests.
"I've just never heard you say it like that before, that's all."
"What?" Brendan asks, feeling a rising embarrassment. His mind races, trying to work out what he has just said.
"I'm gay. You sounded almost...okay with it."
"Don't make a big deal out of it," Brendan mutters. He's still trying to process this himself: the concept of being okay.
"Sorry," Steven says, but Brendan doesn't have to look at him to know that he's still smiling. It warms the silence that gathers between them, and Brendan can't summon what it would take to be angry at him. Would it be so bad to be okay with it all, when it makes Steven this happy?
"Maybe I was a little jealous."
Brendan sits up straighter against the wall, alert now. It sparks something inside him, the idea of Steven having those feelings. Sometimes he forgets that he's not the only one who can be irrational when it comes to them.
He doesn't interrupt, senses that if he does then this may be drawn out, that he may scare Steven away. He wants to hear this; knows that it be childish, but he wants to hear himself being wanted.
"I think it's just...it's just being jealous of them, you know? Lynsey and Doug...soon they're gonna be able to be together. I know it's gonna have to be behind closed doors for a bit, but they'll still..." He looks at Brendan, his eyes big and imploring, and Brendan feels the need to help him out, precariously aware that they're here in this library, and everything's screaming at him to get them out.
"But they'll still be together," he finishes, watching the jut of Steven's Adam's apple as he swallows, his hands drawn together in a tight grasp.
"Yeah. And me and you..."
Brendan's terrified of the end of his sentence. This is what it feels like for someone to hold your life in their hands.
"You think we won't make it." Brendan tries to keep his tone measured, doesn't want Steven to know how everything rests on his answer, more than he even realises.
"No!" Steven's voice is urgent, and Brendan feels hope grow inside him like a flame. He likes that urgency; loves how Steven's fought for them again and again. "I just don't want you to give up."
"I won't ever give up, Steven." Whatever happens, he won't ever forget these three months. Won't ever stop hoping for the future that Steven's offering him.
"So you'll let me come and visit you every chance I get?" Steven reads the hesitation in his eyes. "See. That's what I mean."
"Things will be different out there." He knows the boy's going to argue, and his voice cuts through like steel to stop it from happening. "You'll be back with Amy." He's resisted every attempt to say her name, to think of the family set up that Steven already has in place.
Now who's the jealous one?
"She'll get suspicious, won't she? You coming back here every week, visiting someone. She'll ask questions."
"Then I'll lie to her. Tell her that I'm out somewhere."
It makes Brendan laugh, how readily Steven's willing to lie. It reminds him of another time, of another life, with Eileen and everything that he left behind. He hadn't stopped lying back then.
"Not a good start to your new life, is it?" He doesn't want this for Steven, doesn't want lies to follow him around, doesn't want him to be distanced from his family. And yet a part of him - an ugly, twisted part - wants to be the only person that Steven needs.
"I don't want a new life though, do I?" Steven moves closer to him, dust from the floor on his knees. He doesn't appear to have noticed; he's got a hand on Brendan's chest, and Brendan can feel the heat of him through the material. "I want this. Amy and the kids and you. But I can't be on my own with this. It's not going to work, is it? We need to - we need to compromise."
Brendan smiles, never thought that Steven would be the adult in all of this.
"Compromise?"
"Yeah. That's what you're meant to do in a relationship, aren't you? Work together."
Brendan can feel the boy's eyes on him, knows that he's waiting for him to answer. Words don't always come easily, but this time they do.
"Yeah. Yeah, Steven."
He wants it to be possible. If he watches Steven leave and never sees him again, then what will have been the point in all of this? Having him in his life and losing him will be worse than if he'd never known Steven at all.
"Get a visiting order."
"What?"
He's said the words that Steven's been longing to hear for weeks now, but the boy seems flummoxed by it, eyes wide as saucers, his back off the wall.
"Organise it, and I'll...I'll agree to it."
"You will?"
"Well I'm not going to turn you away, am I?" Even though that's exactly what he's been debating over, lying awake at night and agonising over what's kinder in the long run: ending things while he still has a chance, or breaking up with Steven years from now, when they're both in too deep.
He knows it's futile, ridiculous. They were in too deep months ago, from the start. Ending things now would ruin Brendan, and he's not entirely sure if he could be selfless enough to let Steven get on with the rest of his life without him.
He's not that good a person.
Steven stands up, brushing his clothes off.
"Come on. I don't need to stay here anymore."
"Bren?"
"Mmmmm." He's only half listening; Ste can tell. He has his feet up on the bed, pillow propping him up, book in hand. Something about it is comforting. It's been weeks since Ste's seen him reading anything. It's like a return to normality.
"I was thinking."
"Always dangerous when it involves you."
"Shut up. When I get back home..." The word sounds strange. Home. He wonders if Brendan notices the way he stumbles over it. "I might see someone."
Brendan sits up, suddenly more alert. The book falls onto the bed cover beside him.
"Oh. Right." His expression is instantly tense, and Ste regrets his words. Maybe Brendan doesn't want him revealing things to some stranger. Maybe he's scared that he'll talk about them.
Ste can't help but feel disappointed. He'd been relying on Brendan to support him through it. He hadn't imagined that he'd have to fight his case - not with this.
"I think it's a good idea. It'll help me move on, won't it?" It feels like he's reeling off jargon, move on and get closure and other phrases which currently meant nothing, but which he hopes will mean something one day.
"If that's what you..." Brendan doesn't finish his sentence. He's turned pale, and Ste's alarmed to see that his knuckles look white and stark and straining, like he's struggling to keep calm.
"I don't understand why you're being like this." Ste feels an overwhelming sense of frustration building inside him. Just because Warren's dead, it doesn't mean that it's gone, everything he's feeling. He thought that Brendan of all people would understand that.
"I don't want you to..." Brendan's barely looking at him, looks like he doesn't trust himself to. "I don't want you seeing anyone. I thought that's why you were getting the visiting order."
He's missed a step. He must have.
"You what?" Ste asks, and his brain struggles to make sense of it, of what the hell Brendan's talking about.
Then something clicks into place, and he bursts out laughing; has to, because it's so crazy.
"You think I'm talking about going out with someone else?"
Brendan frowns, clearly not having caught up yet.
"Aren't you?" There's a hint of hope in his voice that makes Ste stop laughing. Sometimes Brendan will say something, and the vulnerability of it kills him.
"I'm talking about seeing a counsellor!"
Brendan's expression clears, and the relief that shines through is almost more than Ste can bear.
"You honestly thought I was going on about getting another boyfriend?" He needs Brendan to see how completely ridiculous this is.
"No." Brendan pauses, bowing his head. "Maybe for a second."
"Seemed a lot more than a second there, mate."
"Is that what we are? Mates?"
Ste smiles, and he almost manages to forget his anger at what Brendan thought he was suggesting.
"Maybe a little bit more." He holds his thumb and finger up, showing the little. "Not if you keep on bringing up your stupid theories though. Then I really will bin you."
"Charming." He settles back against the pillow, and something about his expression tells Ste not to say anything; that Brendan's finding his own way there. "I think it's a good idea."
"Me dumping you? Nah. Wouldn't last one day without me, would you?"
"You seeing someone."
"Yeah?" This is what he'd been hoping for. For Brendan to tell him that it's all okay.
"Yeah."
"We'll both be in therapy, won't we? Proper pair we are."
"There's no shame in getting help, Steven."
Ste's mouth drops open like a cartoon character. Brendan rolls his eyes, knowing what's to come.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Brendan Brady?"
"Fuck off."
"No, come on. I had to drag you kicking and screaming to Des's office, and now you're giving me all these inspirational quotes."
"Don't get used to it, kid. I'm not about to do a song and dance about it." He looks rather pleased with himself though, Ste notes. Only when he thinks he's not looking.
"So you really think it's a good idea?" He needs this, needs the reassurance. It's been years since he's talked to someone properly, and he had hoped he would never have to go back there.
"Whatever you want."
"Really?" His entire life has been about what other people want him to do - teachers and his parents and Amy. He doesn't think he's ever stopped and seriously considered what he wants. "Cos I'm not going to talk to Amy about this, and...well, I think it's good if I have someone..."
"So you're not going to tell her about Warren?" Brendan asks quietly, and Ste can see what it does to him. The effort it takes to talk about that day.
"Course not. She'd never get over it." He suddenly realises what he's said; the implications of it, and it's like he can't talk fast enough, can't stress enough what he means. "But that doesn't mean that you shouldn't tell your Cheryl."
"So you get to stay quiet, and I'm the one who has to tell the truth?"
"It's different - this is your dad, Brendan. It effects her too. She can't keep on having this image of him, like he did nothing wrong."
"Let's just drop it." Brendan drags the cover over him, turning his back and facing the wall, away from Ste.
"Sorry," he mumbles, but he doesn't know if Brendan's heard him. He considers leaving him to get some sleep, sneaking out of the cell before Brendan can even notice, but he doesn't want to end the night like this. There's the danger that they won't be able to fix things if he walks away now. Brendan agreeing to their visits means nothing: he has the power to change his mind at any moment, and the thought's constantly there in Ste's mind, goading him.
As much as he's fooling himself that he has choices here, Brendan holds all the cards when he walks from the prison gates.
Ste unzips his tracksuit, aware that in the silence of the cell, Brendan can hear the sound of it. The bed shifts slightly, and Ste lets the material drop to the floor, eyes locking with Brendan's, watching him watching. His expression softens, then darkens into something entirely different.
It's cold in the cell, so permanently cold that Ste can barely remember what it's like to be warm. He's desperate to reach for a t-shirt, will have to borrow one of Brendan's oversized ones until morning, but this feels more important right now - getting Brendan to want him. Making him forget about everything else.
He chances a glance in the mirror. His nipples are erect, and the small section of his chest that he can see looks concave, without any definition. His arms come up to conceal himself. He shouldn't have looked. It's a stark reminder of their differences; Brendan lying in the bed, facing him now, and he looks -
He looks like someone who anyone would want. The kind of man that people would fight for. Die for.
Ste's never been more aware of his own ordinariness.
He turns away from the mirror. He's glad that it's too small to show his entire body, and he concentrates on looking ahead, focusing on how Brendan's attention is captured now. Ste pulls his trousers off, shivering as he stands in only his socks and boxers, relieved when Brendan extends a finger, beckoning for him to join him in bed. He drags the cover back, letting him in, arms secured around Ste's body, skin against skin as he floods him with heat.
"Ta." Ste settles into the crook of his elbow, and for once he doesn't feel the need to talk - doesn't want to talk, doesn't want to disturb this balance, this peace that has settled. In a few days he'll be in his own bed, alone, and he'll hate himself forever if he robs himself of this chance; if he goes to bed angry and misses out on this.
He becomes aware of the vibration of Brendan's chest, and it takes him a moment to realise he's laughing.
"What?"
"Your legs. I can feel them."
"That's what legs do, Brendan. They rub against things. What am I meant to do, chop 'em off?"
"No, the hair. Feels like silk. Or razors. Haven't decided yet."
Ste lifts the covers up, risking the breeze getting through. He looks at their legs nestled together, and his look tiny compared to Brendan's, but the hair on his own is darker and thicker, and there's so much of it that it makes Brendan's look bare.
He puts the cover back in place, cuddling in closer.
"Want to hear a story?"
"Goldilocks and the Three Bears?"
"No, my story." He doesn't give Brendan time to make another joke. "When I was a kid I stole my mum's razor, right. Must have been like nine or ten. I probably saw her using it, and I tried to copy her, didn't I? Shaved both my legs, and there wasn't even much there, not back then - but it always grew back like a bush after that."
Brendan snorts.
"I swear! I always used to get the piss taken out of me at school when we'd do P.E - everyone had these normal legs, and there I was -"
"Rainforest Steven." Brendan rubs his legs up against his, and Ste shivers, lips finding Brendan's neck. He sucks at the skin, mouth trailing lower to his collar bone. He buries his head there, Brendan's hands reaching out to cradle him. "I love them."
Ste lifts his head up, tentative smile playing on his lips. "Really?"
"They were one of the first things I noticed about you."
"What else did you notice?" It sends a thrill through him, the idea of Brendan's eyes on him, wanting to look.
Brendan shakes his head. "You really have no idea, do you?"
"What?" Ste turns away in embarrassment, but Brendan secures a hand under his chin, forcing him to face him.
"How you look."
"I'm nothing special," he shrugs, like it's a truth that he can't avoid.
"You annoy the hell out of me sometimes, you know that?"
"Brendan!"
"Stand up."
The demand only makes Ste dip further down beneath the covers.
"Come on." Brendan moves from the bed, boxer shorts almost hidden below the large, baggy t-shirt that he's wearing, sleeves short and displaying the size of his arms, his tattoo visible and looking like it's straining against his muscles.
"I'm freezing."
Brendan reaches into the wardrobe behind him, pulling out a hoodie that's rarely worn.
"Put this on."
"It's gonna swamp me."
"You'll look cute."
Ste doesn't know whether he's mocking him or being serious. He rises, muttering and swearing under his breath, pulling on the hoodie. He smirks at how Brendan's eyes stay on him until every last layer of skin is covered.
"We're going to the bathroom."
Suddenly Ste likes this plan. A lot.
"Are you gonna fuck me in the shower?"
"No."
"Blow me in the shower?"
"No."
"Rim me -"
"Steven." He seems exasperated. "Just follow me. Please."
"Alright. God, you're worse than our Amy sometimes."
It's only when they're in the bathroom that Ste realises why they're there. Why it's so important to Brendan, and so potentially humiliating for him.
There's a full length mirror.
"No way." Ste shakes his head, trying to go back to the cell, but Brendan's arms are around his waist, his hot breath against his cheek, and he can be persuasive when he wants to be. Far, far too persuasive. When he walks them forward, Ste can do little more than follow.
"This is stupid." He turns his face away, knowing what's to come. He doesn't want to look at himself. Seeing them together like this is an acute reminder of their differences. Brendan is - well, Brendan, and Ste's -
Ste isn't sure that he belongs with him. Isn't sure that in the real world, where Brendan could have his pick, that he'd still pick him.
"Look."
"No." He wriggles in Brendan's arms, trying to free himself. The glare of the glass feels too much, too bright.
"Why?"
"Cos I'm..."
"Embarrassed?"
His silence is a yes.
Brendan keeps one hand wrapped around Ste's stomach, his free one coming up to his face, his fingers tracing Ste's mouth.
"First thing I noticed about you was this."
"My mouth?" Ste says, struggling to speak through Brendan's hold on him.
"You had it in a kind of pout. Yeah - like that." Brendan laughs, and Ste realises he's been doing it almost unconsciously. "I think it's because you were so damn scared of meeting me. You couldn't help it."
"Well I'd heard a lot about you, hadn't I?" Those early days are the strange combination of being both intensely vivid and a blur; he can't believe that he was ever terrified of meeting Brendan. That he had no idea what to say, how to act.
"Not all good, I'm guessing?" Brendan asks, his touch on Ste's lips feather light.
"Not all good." Ste feels anticipation pool in his gut, and he leans back, wanting more friction.
"Then I noticed these."
Ste closes his eyes as Brendan's fingers move over his eyelids, fluttering against his lashes. No one would believe him if he told them that sometimes, no one can be more gentle than Brendan Brady.
"You smile with your eyes, you know? Not many people do that."
Ste opens his eyes again, breath hitching when he sees Brendan's gaze on him in the mirror. The way that Brendan's holding him, looking at him -
Maybe they are right together.
Maybe he isn't so ordinary.
"Then, then I noticed these." Brendan's hands travel to his legs. Ste shivers as Brendan's palms move up and down his skin. It feels like there's no fabric between them, and he wishes there wasn't; he wants to ignore the cold, and forget about his own body in comparison to Brendan's. He wants to touch him. To feel him.
"Fucking hairier than anything I've ever seen." He laughs darkly, but Ste can feel his heart hammering against his back, knows that whatever he's feeling, Brendan's right there with him.
"And I thought - if this what it means to be gay, and want another man - maybe I am okay with it." He whispers it like he dare not say it at all, that if he does he'll break a spell and everything will go up in flames. "Maybe I am okay if the man's you."
His hands move to lift up Ste's jumper, revealing inches of his stomach in the mirror. Ste goes to lift up his boxers - they're so low on his hips that the trail that his pubic hair makes is visible - but he sees Brendan's face, sees his reaction, and stops. Leaves them.
"Then what did you notice?" He asks, knowing that Brendan can see him getting hard through his boxers. "My dazzling wit and amazing personality?"
"This." Brendan smacks his arse. "And this." His hand cups Ste's cock, and he smiles when Ste frowns at him in the mirror. It's a pretty incredible thing, making Brendan smile.
"What? I'm still a man, Steven. I ain't a bloody poet."
"You're a fool, is what you are. But you're mine, I suppose."
"You suppose?"
"I know." Ste turns in his arms, kissing him. The prickle of his moustache no longer tickles; Ste wonders when it was that he got used to it. "I love you."
"Love you too. You staying?"
"The night, or..."
"Yes, the night," Brendan says sternly. "You know that dragging kicking and screaming you were talking about before? That's a picture of what I'd try and do if you didn't leave in two days time."
"Alright. Don't go on about it." Ste slaps Brendan's arse to distract him, and it works; Brendan looks at him, affronted, glancing between Ste's hand to his arse as though he doesn't quite believe what just happened.
"You cheeky little -"
"What are you going to do about it?" Ste raises an eyebrow. He know it winds Brendan up, but there's something delicious about being confrontational. He knows where it leads.
Brendan grabs him round the legs before he can respond. Hoisting him over his shoulder, he carries him from the bathroom, down the corridor and to bed, Ste yelping the entire time. It's half hearted; he's already anticipating what's to come when Brendan puts him down, and he makes a frantic attempt to remove his clothes before he's barely touched the pillow. Brendan's hoodie ends up on the floor, and Ste roughly discards himself of his boxer shorts and socks. Brendan's slower than he is, eyes drinking Ste in, but soon they're both naked and panting, and laughing more than Ste thinks they've ever laughed.
"That laugh of yours -"
"Yeah?" Ste asks hopefully, expecting another compliment.
"I noticed that too."
"And?" He strokes along Brendan's chest, foot moving to rub against his groin. His cock's flushed.
"And I couldn't fucking stand it."
Brendan grimaces as Ste's foot comes into contact with his hip. Ste crawls over him, pinning him down, and he knows that Brendan could easily push him off and take charge, but he doesn't. His pupils are blown wide, and he maneuvers his body so that Ste's fully seated in his lap, arse lightly grazing over Brendan's dick, teasing but not taking it.
"You're lying," Ste accuses, but he's not so sure - his laugh is terrible. He's been told that his whole life. Teachers would tell him to change it, as though it were something he could control.
"I'm lying," Brendan says, and it's sincere enough. Ste shifts some of his weight, easing off to give Brendan more space. "The people in Australia love your laugh too, Steven."
He pretends to sulk, crossing his arms and moving away from him, back turned. It has benefits, he's learnt: Brendan's lips are on his neck, mapping their way until he begins a path down Ste's back, leaving kisses down his spine. Ste relinquishes, lying flat on his stomach, leaning his head on his arms. The lower down that Brendan moves, the more he feels his body begin to shake. He's sure that it's a game, and the game will end with Brendan licking from his back to his balls, but when Brendan merely gives his arse cheeks a few quick bites, Ste wriggles in protest.
"You gonna stop fidgeting?" There's amusement in Brendan's voice. He's loving this a little too much for Ste's liking.
"You gonna stop playing with me?"
"The youth of today are so damn impatient."
"Youth?" Ste asks, insulted. He's twenty three. Fucking youth. "Oh yeah, I forgot. You're basically a granddad, ain't you?" He sniggers as he looks for Brendan's reaction. Age jokes are predictable and all too easy, but they always have the desired reaction.
"You're not gonna get anything if you carry on like that." It earns him another slap on the arse.
"Ow." He makes a show of it, pretending it hurts worse than it does, wriggling even more in false discomfort. He knows he's being pushy, but there's a sense of urgency about this; a few months ago he thought his sentence in here was akin to life, but now -
Now he's scared of losing time. He hates time. Hates that it's working against him.
"Please." He wonders how it always comes to this - him begging for Brendan to give him what he wants. And if he's always begging, then why does he feel like the most powerful person alive when they're together like this?
"Where's the rush?"
"Cos soon..." They're lying in bed together, naked, and he can't even say the words. "Cos soon we won't be...intimate."
"Intimate? Eileen, is that you?"
"You know what I mean! Sleeping together, fucking, whatever - soon we won't be able to do anything." He feels deflated, like the excitement of moments before is slowly being leeched from him.
"Well, not anything."
"What do you mean?"
"We'll still be seeing each other. I'll still be able to touch you." The way Brendan's looking at him, it feels like he's touching him now.
"Yeah, but I can only hug Amy for a second before they start thinking that she's slipping me drugs! The officers aren't gonna take their eyes off us."
"Then we'll give them something to talk about, won't we?"
"You serious?" It doesn't entirely disgust him, the idea of people looking in, watching them. He's had enough practice in here, and if that's all that they can have, then it'll have to be enough.
"No one's gonna tell me that I can't touch my boyfriend." Brendan puts his hands behind his head, and he's so damn sure and confident and perfect and all his that Ste believes him, believes everything he's telling him.
"But this, Bren. This. I can't...I can't go months without being with you." Months is optimistic, but he can't stand to say years.
"We'll get by."
"But you...I mean you've always been..." Ste doesn't know what he wants to say. You've always been sexually active? You've always had someone outside, and in here? Everything sounds insulting in his head, and he doesn't want to vocalise his fears. He knows that Brendan's gone from Macca to Vinnie to him, and he wants to be the end point. He wants to be the end point more than anything.
"All that - it's over." Brendan sounds so sure. It's like a full stop to Ste arguing back. "I can do it, Steven. If it's months, or years...or if I never get out of here -"
"You will."
"But if I don't - then I can do it. There's no one else for me. You listening? There is no one else. I want to be with you tonight, but I don't want you to look at me like you're looking at me now."
"How am I looking at you?" He feels suddenly self conscious, unaware of what he's doing, if he's doing something wrong.
"Like this is the last time. This isn't the last time."
"I know, but..." He doesn't know. That's what's killing him.
"If you know then there's no rush, yeah?"
"But -"
"Lie on your back."
"Bren?"
"Go on. And relax."
The bed's cramped, but they adjust until Ste's spread out completely, Brendan kneeling between his legs.
"What are you doing?" Ste giggles; it may not tickle when Brendan kisses him, but his moustache feels funny against his legs.
Brendan ignores him, concentrating on what he's doing. The kisses gradually turn into licks, and Ste tries to get used to the fact that Brendan's licking along his legs, making the hair there wet. He hears him murmuring, I love these things, and Ste's pulse hammers in his neck as Brendan gets closer to his crotch. He doesn't know what to expect: does taking things slow mean that he's going to tease him, delay his gratification?
Yes. It means that instead of preparing him and then fucking him, he focuses on giving him head. He toys with him, lips securing around his balls, tongue tracing over Ste's rim, his dick sliding rapidly down his throat, making Ste think that he's not going to stop until he comes, only to release him when he's on the edge, squeezing his dick to keep him on the brink of orgasm.
It's cruel, and it makes Ste writhe and grip the sheets and hate him, but he plays this game. Their game.
He doesn't know how long he lasts for. He delays and delays until he can't anymore, when the onslaught on his senses is too much. He's being fingered and sucked, and there's a pressure building inside his head and his body, and he hears himself shouting as he comes, spilling down Brendan's throat with a violence that he didn't know he was capable of.
Brendan swallows him like it's nothing. Ste licks his moustache clean for him, but he can't move anymore after that. Even as he's aware of Brendan putting a condom on, he stays still against the sheets, mind emptying and limbs weightless.
As Brendan enters him, Ste tries to believe him. Tries to believe that it's not for the last time.
