Chapter Thirty Five

"Terry." Sam stood transfixed, unable to order the chaos forming in his mind. What was he doing here? What did he want? How would Steven react? These questions raced through his mind while his mouth attempted to create further speech. He wanted to tell Terry to get lost but something gripped him, curiosity perhaps, and kept him still.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Terry grinned, casting a look around the flat. Sam felt a shudder ripple through him; Terry's gaze somewhat intrusive in the place Sam and Steven had called home for many years.

"Now isn't a good time," Sam said, presence of mind returning as quickly as it had left. He took a definitive step back, widening the space between them. Terry's whole demeanour felt contaminating; his gaze was hard, unyielding. His clothes hung off him as if he had lost a great deal of weight in a short space of time. His face was drawn, wrinkled and pale in the low light of the hallway. It was no wonder Sam hadn't recognised him; this certainly wasn't the Terry of over twenty years ago. This was a damaged, cruel man who had learnt how to be brutal, harsh. It was there in the quirk of his mouth, the coldness in his eyes. Sam was reluctant to look at him, but he also couldn't look away.

"Oh?" Terry leaned in close; his breath stank of alcohol. The sound and smell of him jerked Sam back to the present situation. He held firm, noting the way Terry's eyes raked over him in turn, as if giving his own assessment. "Ste not here then?" He added. Sam tried to hold himself still.

"No," He said, unsuccessfully disguising the tremor in his voice at the mention of his son. Terry saw right through him, his mouth twisting unpleasantly.

"Any idea when you might be expecting him back?" Terry asked, sounding curious and light. He was anything but. Sam noted that his foot was halfway past the door; a clear statement that Sam wasn't getting out of this exchange easily.

"He's gone away," Sam said, holding himself stiff.

"Oh yeah?" Terry cocked his head to the side, almost amused.

"He won't be back for some time," Sam added, hoping Terry would get the message.

"Spoken to him have you?" Terry bared his teeth, showing Sam once more that it wasn't only the interior that was damaged beyond repair.

"Just now," Sam lied easily, touching his phone absently in his pocket.

"Why don't you call him back and tell him I'm here?" Terry challenged, inching closer inside the flat.

"Why would I do that?" The tension was building in Sam's body, close to breaking point.

Terry shrugged, grinning. "Family reunions are important, Sammy boy."

"Is that right?" Sam asked coldly. He was tiring of Terry's games.

Without warning, Terry strode into the flat, closing the door firmly behind him. Sam stepped back to accommodate him, skin crawling.

"No manners either," Terry said jovially. He seemed unhinged. Now that he was in direct light, Sam noted the fading scars on his worn skin, some deeper than others. Terry caught him looking, something dangerous flashing across his face. "Got these inside, me. I think they add character, don't you?"

"Mm." Sam inched away from him to the kitchen. He wasn't scared of Terry. If it came down to it he was sure he could take him easily in a fight. The trouble was, he couldn't do that. Not until he knew what Terry wanted with Steven. Sam wouldn't risk his son's safety if his life depended on it.

"Nice picture," Terry said suddenly, catching him off guard. He was stroking the frame of a recent one of Sam and Steven. "He's aged well, my lad. Very handsome," Terry took his hand away, curl to his lip. "Don't you think?"

"Of course, he's always been…" Sam trailed off. "What do you want, Terry?" He asked abruptly. He was going to lose it if Terry kept pushing him like this.

"I've told you, Sam. I want to speak to my son." Terry took a seat, making himself comfortable. Sam was surprised that Terry was disadvantaging himself in this way, allowing Sam to tower over him even more so.

"The thing is, Terry," Sam began, speaking very carefully. "Steven isn't your son."

"Steven is it?" Terry swiped his tongue over his lips. "Isn't that what his boyfriend calls him?"

Sam blinked, remembering a conversation long ago. Brendan had seen Terry in prison, had had him beaten up. Might even be the cause for some of Terry's scars. A feeling of dread settled in Sam's stomach. He decided to change tact.

"I can call him whatever I wish to, he's mine." Sam could hardly refrain from keeping the bite out of his voice, the possessiveness with which he claimed his son as his own. It gave him pause, assessing himself and his beliefs.

Terry didn't give him long to consider. "And who raised him? Hm?"

"No one did." Sam pointed out.

Terry's eyes flashed dangerously. "What are you trying to say?"

"I hardly think you can claim father of the century, Terry. And Pauline… well." Sam knew it was a low blow, mentioning Pauline, but it was the only bait Terry seemed to rise to.

Terry cracked his knuckles together in an attempt to be intimidating. "Don't you speak of her that way."

"Why not?" Sam stepped closer, using his extra height to his advantage. "The only thing she got right was leaving that boy in peace after she passed. At least he had me to pick up the pieces."

Terry rose to his feet in a flash, stopping short directly in front of Sam. "You think he gives a shit about you? He just wants someone to look after him; whether that's you or his cock-sucking boyfriend. He'll cast you aside first chance he gets."

Sam's jaw clenched, the words resonating something inside of him. He didn't let it show on his face.

"I think you need to leave. Now."

"Gladly," Terry snarled in his face. "You'll be hearing from me though, count on that."

"Can't wait," Sam retorted, watching as Terry swept past him to the door, slamming it on his way out.

Sam immediately collapsed onto the sofa, breathing hard. His fingers twisted in his hair, hard enough to hurt. He reached for his phone again, trying once more to contact Steven. He wasn't even sure what he'd say if he did get through. If Steven knew Terry was here he might never return. There was no use calling Brendan either; he'd want to keep the boy out of harm's way at any cost. A part of him wished for Brendan's presence though, in spite of his feelings towards the man. He might be a lot of things but his fierce loyalty towards Steven was equal to Sam's own. He had a feeling Brendan would do anything to keep Steven safe, just like Sam would.

Feeling increasingly drained, Sam laid out on the sofa, curling up into a ball. Perhaps when he woke up in the morning, Steven would have returned. Even as he thought it, he knew it wouldn't happen. Steven was angry and hurt, perhaps rightly so, and he had Brendan to look after him now. Maybe Terry was right. It was possible Steven didn't need him anymore. He was a grown man, more aware than Sam realised of what he wanted. Sam brushed his knuckles against his eyes, allowing a moment of weakness to wash over him while he was alone. The moment continued for some time though, until Sam was so exhausted he fell asleep.

Xxx

Brendan made sure that breakfast was delivered to their room later that morning. He couldn't cope with the eight am wake up call for breakfast downstairs and neither could Steven after the night they'd had. Instead they were woken just after ten by a gentle knocking on the door. Brendan slid tiredly out of bed, still half asleep and wearing only his boxers. His senses were reignited by the delicious smell of bacon, placing an entire rasher into his mouth before closing the door.

Steven was slowly waking up himself, eyes adjusting to the soft light pooling into the room across their bed. Brendan placed the breakfast tray on top of the covers, already tucking in hungrily.

"Leave some for me, yeah?" Steven smiled sleepily, reaching first for the mug of coffee on the side of the tray.

"Best get in there quick then," Brendan said around a mouthful of toast.

Steven sipped his coffee, eyes closing in contentment. "That's perfect."

"Lots of sugar then?"

"Course." Steven replaced the mug on the tray, reaching for a slice of toast. He nibbled in the middle, avoiding the sides.

"Want me to cut the crusts off for ye?" Brendan teased, nudging him in the side.

"Shut up," Steven replied haughtily, taking a large bite. "I'm not immediately hungry when I wake up, unlike you."

"Maybe ye should be," Brendan commented, eyes raking over Steven's still too slight form. "Need a bit more meat on yer bones, kid."

Steven shot him a glare, clearly not appreciating Brendan's tone. He reached for a sausage, batting Brendan's hand away when he went for the same one.

"What time we meeting Des then?" Steven asked, brushing the crumbs off his hands.

"About an hour," Brendan replied, gulping down several draughts of coffee himself.

Steven frowned then as if realising something. "Who else is coming to this wedding?"

"Besides Anne?" Steven nodded. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"We'll need more than one witness," Steven said thoughtfully. "Who would be willing to come though?

Brendan thought hard. "Cheryl would but she's got baby Brendan to think about now," Brendan said, still feeling strange about the name.

"What about your Declan?"

Brendan shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "I guess."

Steven raised his eyebrows, reading him easily. "Come on, it's not that weird, is it?"

Brendan turned to him, considering the best way to respond before he said something stupid. "Remember how I was when ye first met Declan?"

A dark shadow passed over Steven's face. "Like I was catching? Yeah, I remember."

Brendan smiled apologetically, thumbing crumbs away from Steven's cheek. "Sorry."

Steven shrugged. "In the past now, init?"

"Yeah," Brendan said softly. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to ask. He might find it weird though."

"I'm sure he won't," Steven sighed. "I can do it if you want."

"No, it's okay," Brendan said quickly. "I'll call him after we see Desmond."

"Speaking of which, we better get a move on." Steven finished up his breakfast, slipping out of bed with the ease of youth. Brendan caught him around the waist as he stood.

"Escaping so soon?" Brendan murmured against his ear, pulling him backwards onto the bed.

"We haven't got time," Steven whined pointlessly. Brendan's hands were already roaming.

"Time for a quickie," Brendan told him, pushing him flat out on the bed.

Steven grinned, amused and fond, slowly spreading his legs. Brendan hastily stripped himself of his boxers, reaching for Steven's cock nestled between his thighs.

"Straight to business, yeah?" Steven asked, biting his lip.

Brendan leant forwards, brushing his lips against Steven's, cock still firmly grasped in his hand.

"Any complaints?"

"No chance," Steven said, voice low.

Brendan grabbed some lube from the bedside table and spread it liberally over himself and Steven, allowing enough to remain on his fingers to coax and stretch him open.

Steven's hands rested against his chest, fingers curling around the dark hairs there. His blue eyes were glazed over with lust and desperation, pulling Brendan in deeper when he finally entered him, something intense and unspoken flashing between them.

Brendan's palms slid down Steven's legs, hairs soft and thick to the touch. He felt the twitch of his muscles as he pressed his body against him, giving over some of his weight. Steven liked to feel him that way sometimes; he told him the idea of Brendan solid and real on top of him was a sensation that had never faded, even when he was gone. Brendan relished that; the secret, old part of him revelling in the fact that no other man had made Steven feel this way, that Brendan's cock was forever ingrained inside of him.

Steven arched up, pushing against Brendan with all his strength, the pressure of Brendan filling him almost too much to bear.

"It's okay," Brendan whispered against him, body shaking and sweating with exertion.

Steven shifted his hips, taking a moment to breathe.

"Is it too much?" Brendan tilted his head to the side. Steven was often easy to read in these situations. Brendan knew what to give him and how much to take. He knew when to slow down and when to speed up. There were always clues in Steven's body; the depth of his moans, the twitches in his muscles. Sometimes when he wanted to reach breaking point he would clench internally, Brendan engulfed and trapped inside, the two of them riding out their orgasm together.

Mostly it was easy because Steven was so vocal. He wasn't afraid to ask for what he wanted, in life and in sex. It was one of the many things Brendan loved about him. Even at the very beginning he'd been that way. He had a way of drawing people in. Vulnerability mixed with tenacity. Brendan couldn't be more fond if he tried.

"What you looking at?" Steven asked, Brendan still buried deep inside of him.

"What do ye think?" Brendan smiled, easing himself out carefully and grabbing some tissue he'd left earlier to help clean Steven up.

Steven winced a little. "Bit tender," He laughed.

"Bath?"

Steven shook his head, reaching for his phone. "Not enough time. After though."

"Okay," Brendan cupped his face, smoothing his thumb over his jaw.

Steven grinned then, realisation lighting up his face. "We're going to church."

"Yeah?" Brendan asked slowly, not catching on.

"And we've just done that." Steven laughed, pushing himself up.

"Jesus," Brendan muttered, bringing his cross to his lips.

"Calm down, we're only human." Steven reached for his clothes, spraying himself with body spray first and giving Brendan a one-shouldered shrug. "Might help."

Brendan gestured for it too, dousing himself in the scent. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.

"Not my usual."

"Now you'll smell like me." Steven grinned, kissing Brendan wetly on the lips.

"Already do." Brendan pointed out, pulling his shirt over his head and tucking his phone and wallet into his trousers. "Ready?"

Steven nodded as he stood, giving his arse a rub. "I hope they have cushions on the seats."

As it turned out, they did. Steven still shifted uneasily beside him, trying to keep the pillow in place.

"What's the point in this, eh? Why not get sofas in here rather than these hard benches?"

Brendan rolled his eyes, offering no reply. The moment he spotted Father Des coming towards them he stood abruptly, giving Steven a nudge to do the same. Steven grumbled a little, arm brushing Brendan's as he stood. Des smiled warmly at them, holding out a hand for Brendan to take.

"Nice to see you, Brendan."

"Likewise." Brendan gave a fleeting smile, glancing at Steven nervously.

"And you must be Steven," Des said, shaking Steven's hand.

"Ste." Steven corrected unnecessarily. It made Des smile knowingly.

"Please, take a seat."

Steven shot Brendan a look before doing so, not quite still beside him.

"Thank you for coming to see me," Des said softly, glancing between the two of them.

"Didn't really have a choice though." Steven pointed out, always upfront.

"Steven," Brendan hissed under his breath.

"It's alright, Brendan." Des laughed, holding up a placating hand. "He's quite right. You aren't a regular at church are you, Ste?"

Brendan twitched a little at the name change but said nothing.

"My parents weren't really into all that." Steven shrugged. "Maybe if they had they'd have been better people."

Des stared at him thoughtfully. "Brendan tells me you've recently found your biological father."

Steven gave Brendan a look. "Of course he did."

Des didn't miss a beat. "Does he know about your intention to marry?"

Steven looked at his hands guiltily. "No."

"You don't think he'd approve?" Des asked gently.

"I know he wouldn't," Steven said, tension forming in the press of his mouth. "He's been trying to split us up."

"Sometimes parents do what they think is right for their children, even if their children don't necessarily agree."

"It feels right," Steven blurted out, smiling apologetically. "With Brendan I mean. Getting married and all that."

"Glad to hear it," Des smiled. "How do you feel about it, Brendan?"

"Relieved," Brendan answered truthfully. "Scared."

"It's a big commitment to make to another person," Des said. "It isn't for everyone. What urged you to ask Steven to marry you?"

Now it was Brendan's turn to look uncomfortable. "Like Steven said, it feels right. I want us to be at a place where we're equal, together."

Des nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. "And who would you like as your witnesses?"

"Is that it?" Steven piped up, a little surprised. "You aren't going to ask us anything else? Get us to take a test or something?"

Des laughed. "Of course not. I'm satisfied, as I was before I even spoke to the two of you, that you're doing this for the right reasons."

"I was married before," Steven said. "It didn't work out."

"I've heard," Des replied. "We can't always expect to be correct in our convictions of the time."

"I think…" Steven trailed off, glancing quickly at Brendan as if for permission.

"Go on," Brendan prompted, voice soft.

"I think with Doug, it was like I believed in that security. I thought it was what I wanted but deep down I knew it really wasn't."

"We all make mistakes," Des said kindly. "It's when we choose to learn from them that we're truly tested."

"I love him," Steven said, flushing. "I want this to be it, just me and him."

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Des said, looking between the two of them once more. "We have a few technical details to arrange but other than that I'm happy to perform the ceremony at your discretion."

"Thank ye," Brendan bowed his head briefly before meeting Des' gaze. "For everything."

Des nodded, accepting his thanks graciously. "Now, when were you planning on doing this?"

"As soon as possible," Brendan said quickly. "I just need to get our witnesses and we're sorted. Everything else has been taken care of."

"I have time free tomorrow, if it's convenient."

"Tomorrow?" Brendan repeated, glancing quickly at Steven.

"Wow, that soon?" Steven asked.

"We're a small congregation and Brendan specified he'd like an evening ceremony. I made arrangements for that particular slot, should he be inclined to take it."

"If ye don't mind," Brendan added quickly to Steven. This was all on him now; Brendan would do whatever he wished.

Steven chewed on his bottom lip, considering. Of course he had a lot to think about. Years of loving Brendan, of being let down and abandoned by him, the decision couldn't possibly come easy to him. It was too much pressure. Brendan opened his mouth to offer an alternative until Steven spoke over him, eyes shining brightly.

"Tomorrow it is."