Chapter Twenty Five

Brendan was woken up by someone sitting on his chest, poking him in the face. He grunted, shifting a little and dislodging them. Steven was still beside him in the bed, snoring softly.

"Wake up!" Phoenix demanded, jumping up and down on the bed. "Mummy's made us eggs on toast!"

Brendan's stomach grumbled at the thought of breakfast, prompting him to sit up, rubbing his sore head.

"What time is it?"

"Gone ten." Mitzeee said helpfully from the doorway. "I thought I'd let you sleep in but this one wouldn't hear of it." She gestured for Phoenix to get off the bed. "I'll give you a minute." She said, slipping him a knowing wink.

Steven was only just reaching a conscious state. He snuffled a little in his sleep and Brendan touched his face gently.

"Steven," He said, feeling his forehead. "Ye are really warm."

"Mm?" Steven rolled onto his back, blinking his eyes open. "What?" He said groggily.

"Ye don't normally snore." Brendan said worriedly.

"I feel a bit…" Steven sat up carefully, holding his head. "Oh no."

"What?"

"Excuse me a minute." He said, jumping out of bed and stumbling towards the bathroom. Brendan followed him hastily, slipping Mitzeee a look on his way.

"Steven?" Brendan asked through the door. Mitzeee was beside him, holding a spatula. "Can I come in?"

Steven groaned a little. Brendan could hear him retching.

"I'm coming in." Brendan warned him.

Steven was slumped over the toilet seat, resting his forehead against the cool porcelain. He looked up at Brendan as he entered, eyes red and mouth slick with saliva. Brendan knelt down beside him, rubbing his back and feeling his forehead once more.

"Did ye feel sick yesterday?"

"I was knackered after my shift and threw most of my pizza in the bin." Steven admitted. "But after I texted you and my phone died I fell asleep so…"

"Sounds like a bug, probably a twenty four hour thing." Mitzeee said from the doorway. She was holding a wet flannel and a bucket. "Help him back to the bedroom. He isn't going anywhere today."

Brendan helped him rinse his mouth out first with some toothpaste, keeping a secure arm around his waist. He guided him back to the bedroom carefully, Steven groaning, eyes half closed. Phoenix followed them, looking cowed and apologetic.

"Is it because I woke you up?" He asked in a very small voice.

"Hey," Brendan bent down to his level, speaking softly. "Of course not. People get sick, just happens. He'll be fine soon enough."

Phoenix nodded sadly. "Do you still want your eggs on toast?" He asked.

"Definitely. Load me up a plate, yeah? Maybe ask Mummy to get Steven some dry toast?"

Phoenix brightened at the prospect of being helpful and trundled off back to the kitchen.

Brendan propped some pillows underneath Steven's head, elevating him. Otherwise he felt suitably useless. Eileen had always taken care of the boys when they were sick. When Brendan had been ill as a boy, Seamus had always left him well alone. Perhaps there were boundaries even he wouldn't cross.

"Bren?" Steven croaked, reaching for him. Brendan sat on the bed, taking his hand. It was warm. "I don't like being sick."

"No one likes being sick, Steven."

"It scares me." He admitted hoarsely.

"No need to be scared." Brendan said, laying on the bed beside him.

Steven smiled. "I bet you never get sick."

"Try not to." Brendan said honestly.

Steven frowned at him. "Because of Seamus?"

Brendan shifted a little. "I guess. Better to not be vulnerable."

"Yeah." Steven said, leaning his head back on the pillows. "When I was sick my mum just sorta left me to it. Terry just went off to pub. No entertainment when he couldn't beat me black and blue."

Brendan winced, shuffling that little bit closer to him.

Thankfully Mitzeee came into the room then with breakfast. She put Brendan's on the bedside table, probably concerned the smell would send Steven heaving into his bucket once more. She passed Steven his dry toast.

"Ugh, don't think I can eat that."

"It'll help." Mitzeee said, placing a glass of water by the side of him. "Small sips."

"Here." Brendan broke the pieces of toast into small quarters, vaguely remembering Eileen doing the same for Declan once. "Makes it easier to get through." He said, not knowing if he was talking rubbish.

Steven nibbled on one corner gingerly.

"Want me to call the doctor?" Mitzeee asked.

"No, I'll be alright." Steven said, attempting another small bite of toast. "You eat, Bren. You look starved."

"Ye sure?"

"I might rest my eyes a moment anyway." Steven said, putting the toast beside him on the bed.

"I'll just be outside, okay?" Brendan said, kissing him on his fevered forehead.

He left the door slightly ajar as he followed Mitzeee out of the room.

"Poor thing, he looks so rough." Mitzeee said sympathetically, making Brendan a coffee to go with his breakfast.

"Thanks." Brendan said, taking the offered mug. "I don't even know if I can eat this now."

"I know what you mean; hearing someone vomit puts me off my food too."

"That doesn't bother me." Brendan said.

"Aw, is it sympathy pains? Do you need a bucket too?"

"Don't be cute." Brendan replied, exasperated at her smile.

"He best stay here till he's better; I don't fancy moving him and I bet you don't either."

"Not particularly, no."

"Someone should call Sam."

Brendan put down his fork heavily. "What for?"

"To let him know where Ste is?"

"Seriously?"

"He's still his dad, Brendan. I'll do it if you want."

"It's fine." Brendan said with a sigh, taking out his phone. The home phone rang three times before Samuel answered.

"Hello?"

"It's Brendan." Brendan said shortly. "Steven's sick. He can't come to work today."

Samuel paused on the other end. "Where is he?"

"Anne's."

"Is he okay?"

"Sleeping it off."

"I see. What seems to be wrong with him?"

"Are you a doctor now?"

"No. I am his father though."

Brendan rubbed his temple in agitation. "He's been sick, has a fever. Woke up like it."

"Are you keeping him warm?"

"Didn't ye hear me? He has a fever."

"Sometimes best to heat the fever straight out. He has a thick blanket here, I'll bring it over."

"There's no need-"

The phone cut out abruptly. Brendan resisted the urge to throw it against the wall.

"He's coming over, wonderful."

"Finish your breakfast then." Mitzeee told him. "One of us needs to work today anyway." She added, finishing off her coffee. "Want me to pick anything up while I'm out? I have to take Phoenix to nursery first but I pass a few shops on the way."

"I don't know. What do sick people need?" Brendan asked, clueless.

Mitzeee smiled wryly. "Whenever Phoenix is sick I run him a bath, soothes the tummy. I make a big fuss of him and take his mind off it with stories and Teddy Musical."

"Teddy Musical?" Brendan asked wearily.

"Sure! You line up your teddies, get them to perform like they're in a musical. It's great fun."

"Somehow I don't think Steven's the musical type…"

"Who do you think came up with the idea?" Mitzeee said with a smirk.

"I'll bear it in mind." Brendan said, finishing off his breakfast.

"Sam might be right though, heating the fever out. I'd go with the bath idea." Mitzeee said, calling Phoenix from his room.

"Bye, Brendan!" He said, waving happily. "Look after Ste for me."

"Will do." Brendan promised, already edging back to the bedroom.

"Don't forget to let Sam in." Mitzeee reminded him with a look.

"Where's the dead bolt?" Brendan asked. "Joking. See ye later."

Steven was shivering now in his sleep; his eyes rolling erratically beneath his eyelids. Brendan sat on the edge of the bed, gently placing the cold flannel across his forehead. He relaxed a tiny amount, settling back into sleep.

"Doesn't need a fucking blanket." Brendan murmured to himself. He went in search of a fan in the flat, plugging it in and positioning it towards the bed. Once he'd accomplished this, there was a knock at the door.

Samuel let himself in when Brendan answered. He was carrying a blanket, some magazines and soup in a large bundle.

"Where is he?"

"Spare room." Brendan said, following Samuel towards it.

Steven was awake now, body half out beneath the covers. He smiled when he saw Samuel.

"Hey, Dad." He said croakily. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to see you." Samuel said, positioning himself on the edge of the bed. "You need anything?"

"Water would be nice." Steven replied. Brendan reached for it before Samuel could.

"I'll get ye a straw." Brendan grumbled, exiting the room. Thankfully Mitzeee kept straws, for Phoenix Brendan supposed. He picked out a bright pink one, wanting to make Steven laugh. When he went back into the room, Samuel was reading a magazine to Steven. His eyes were bright and clear, interested in what Samuel was saying. Brendan put the straw into the glass, helping Steven to drink from it. He didn't comment on the colour.

"What's that yer reading?" Brendan asked, sitting on the other side of the bed.

"Just the comic strips; Steven's a fan of the classics."

"Is he now?" Brendan shuffled closer to get a better look. He gulped visibly. "Superman?" He said with some difficulty.

"Not a fan?"

Brendan shrugged, attempting to remain aloof. "Not bad."

Steven took a sip of his drink, eyes resting on Brendan's face. Silently he was asking him if he was okay. Brendan nodded once, only just realising the way his hands had clenched around the bed covers.

"If you want to go out for a bit I can watch him." Samuel offered.

"Haven't ye got a club to run?" Brendan grunted.

"You're welcome to take over for the day. You must miss it sometimes."

"Not really." Brendan replied bluntly.

"There's no need for both of us to stay with him."

"Couldn't agree more." Brendan said pointedly.

Steven coughed a bit as the water dribbled down his chin. "Oops." He said, moping himself. Samuel attempted to help him but Steven batted his hand away. "I can do it. I'm not useless."

Samuel's hand hovered in mid-air. "Of course not, son."

Brendan felt a strange glow of satisfaction rising in him. "Ye wanna finish that toast now?" He asked, handing Steven the plate.

Steven put his hand to his stomach, shaking his head. "Maybe later."

"How about some soup? I brought chicken, your favourite."

"Thanks." Steven said, grimacing. "I think I'll only end up bringing it up though." He shivered a little, pulling the covers over himself.

"Are you cold? I'm sure that fan's not helping."

Brendan glared at him. "He has a fever."

"As I said on the phone, it's better to heat it out."

"What kind of method is that? He'll burn up even worse."

"It'll lift it, trust me."

Brendan scoffed.

"You got a better idea?" Samuel asked, growing annoyed himself.

"I think my methods are working perfectly well, thank ye." Brendan said pointedly.

"Is that why he looks like death warmed up?"

"Hey!" Steven protested, but both men ignored him.

"Ye think ye can take care of him better than me, is that it?"

"Coming from the man who beat him black and blue? I reckon so."

"Dad!" Steven exclaimed incredulously.

"I'm sorry, son. I didn't mean to say that."

"I think ye need to leave."

"I think you both do." Steven said angrily.

Brendan stared at him in astonishment. "Ye can't be serious?"

"I'm sorry, Bren but I can't be dealing with this right now when I feel like shit. Go for a walk or something, cool down. You too, Dad. Better yet, both of you go to work."

"No." Both men said in unison.

Steven rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I'll call if I need anything."

"I ain't leaving ye like this." Brendan growled. "Fuck that."

"Fine. Sit in the living room then. Just calm down a bit." Steven said, gesturing to Brendan's still clenched fists.

Brendan immediately unclenched them. "He has to leave too."

"Yes." Steven said, looking at Samuel.

"Alright, son. If that's what you want."

"It is." Steven laid back heavily on the pillows, closing his eyes.

Both men slipped quietly out of the room, glowering at each other. Brendan shut the door slightly after them, going out into the living room.

"We were fine until ye came round!" He snarled straight away.

"Well excuse me for trying to look after my son!"

"Oh, is that what ye call it? Upsetting him counts under that, does it?"

"I was only speaking the truth." Samuel said, sitting on the edge of the sofa.

"And that's what ye think? That I just beat him up and that's it?"

"Well isn't it?" Samuel's eyes blazed. "I can't understand why he's with you. Or why he's gone back to you so many times. All you do is hurt him and leave him."

"If we're gonna go into leaving him…"

"I didn't have a choice!" Samuel raged. "What's your excuse?"

"He was better off without me." Brendan said quietly.

"I agree with you there." Samuel said darkly. "He was doing okay until you showed up."

"Ye reckon?"

"He never got sick on my watch."

Brendan snorted derisively. "On yer watch? And how long is that exactly? How many years have you been in his life for? Was ye around when Terry was beating him up? When his mum was drinking herself into an early grave? No. Ye weren't. Fathers like you make me sick." Brendan spat his words, surprising himself with the amount of venom in them. It wasn't as though he himself could claim father of the year, and certainly his own father couldn't. He began to wonder if that was why he was so fired up in the first place.

Samuel calmed at his words, taking several deep breaths.

"I don't appreciate your insight, Brendan. You haven't been here for him either. You weren't here when he was waking up in the middle of the night screaming for you. You weren't here when he got himself blown up in that deli. You weren't here when he stopped taking care of himself properly. I might have been absent all this time but I'm damn sure making up for it now."

"So am I." Brendan said quietly.

The two men were silent for some time after that. Brendan strained to hear if Steven had stirred, praying that he hadn't heard any of that.

"I should go check on him." Brendan said eventually. When he went back to the bedroom however, the bed was empty. "Steven?" Brendan called out, panicked. "Steven?"

"What is it?" Samuel asked, appearing at the doorway.

"Where is he?" Brendan went back out of the room, knocking on the bathroom door. "Steven?"

"Go away." A small voice said from behind the door.

Brendan breathed a sigh of relief. "What ye doing in there? Didn't even hear ye get up."

"Too busy arguing about me." Steven said, annoyed.

He'd definitely heard everything.

"I'm sorry, Steven. We got a bit carried away."

Steven opened the door then, flushing the toilet behind him. He looked drawn and pale.

"You told me I wasn't a possession anymore."

"Ye aren't." Brendan insisted.

"Doesn't feel that way." Steven retorted.

"Steven." Samuel interjected.

"Don't you start either, you're just as bad. Who are you to tell me what to do? If I wanna be with Brendan, I will be. You're not the first one to warn me off him and you won't be the last. I'm sick of it. I'm a grown man, I'll do what I want to."

"Steven, I'm sorry-" Samuel cut in again, looking distressed.

"I'm going back to bed." Steven said confidently. He swayed a little on his feet, Brendan catching him easily around the waist. "If I wasn't sick I'd storm out right now."

"We'll be good, Steven. Promise." Brendan said softly, helping him back to bed.

"Shake on it." Steven insisted. "Or leave."

Brendan looked at Samuel cautiously. The older man stared back at him, face impassive.

"I'm not asking you to kiss, just shake hands and let me sleep." Steven said wearily.

Samuel held out a hand, expression giving nothing away. "Truce?"

Brendan hesitated, looking at Steven first for confirmation. "Fine." Brendan said, taking the offered hand.

"Thank you." Steven said tiredly. "I really am going to sleep now, no more noise."

"Alright." Brendan went out of the room first, Samuel a few steps behind. When they were past the door Samuel went ahead of him, turning to address him.

"I'll be watching, just know that."

"Likewise." Brendan said warningly, voice low.

Samuel nodded curtly, letting himself out of the flat. Brendan sighed, not wanting to leave Steven alone now more than ever. He slipped silently back into the bedroom, climbing onto the bed. Steven wasn't asleep yet; he lay quietly on his side.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Brendan said to the empty air. "He just drives me crazy."

Steven turned onto his other side to face him. "You do know that I love you, right? That I won't leave you?"

"Of course I know that." Brendan mumbled.

"Then why are you picking fights with him like he has something you don't?"

"He has you."

"You have me. Why can't you both just learn to share?"

"I don't share." Brendan said blankly.

"You need to learn." Steven sighed, expression softening. "Come here then." He opened his arms invitingly. "I won't throw up on you, don't worry."

"Wouldn't care anyway." Brendan said, slotting himself into his outstretched arms.

"I think you would."

"Well, it wouldn't be pleasant."

"And it'd smell bad."

"It does already."

"Oi, shut it."

"I was meant to run you a bath."

"Don't bother, I'm still feeling hot. Turn the fan back on."

"I don't want to move."

Steven sighed, curling further into his chest. "I don't want you to move either."

"That settles it then." Brendan placed the flannel back onto Steven's forehead. "Looks like I got my way in the end."

"How do you mean?"

"I'm looking after ye."

"Don't ruin it."

"Sorry."

"Stop saying sorry."

"S-" Brendan grinned then, kissing Steven lightly on the lips. "Least yer breath is fresh, thanks to me."

"Until I'm sick again."

"I'll be here if ye are, go to sleep."

"Oh, I can now, can I?"

"Course ye can, no one's stopping ye."

"Good because my eyes are killing me. Wake me up in an hour or two. I don't want to feel too groggy after."

"Ye have my word."

Steven snorted, rolling away from Brendan's heat in order to relax. Within moments his chest was steadily rising and falling, sleeping peacefully once more.