I'm sorry if you feel there's no relief in this fic, and I'm afraid there's more angst in this chapter. I know they need a break – and probably so do you – but they have each other now, and slowly but surely their salvation is coming! But with the content of this fic, it's very hard to have a relieving chapter when there's still so many issues floating around! But bear with it, please!

XOXOXOX

His whole body is trembling with the palpitations of what Brendan's doing to him. He's on his back on Brendan's bed, his knees hoisted up over the top of Brendan's shoulders, his chest rising and falling with the efforts to keep his breathing steady. And Brendan's making a meal out of him. His tongue darts in and out of Ste's hole in the way that only Brendan knows how – slow sensual swipes and then fast and incessant until Ste's lost all control of his own voicebox and he's moaning, arching off the bed, his ankles hooked around the back of Brendan's neck and trying to pull him closer.

Brendan's hands run smoothly down from Ste's ankles to his thighs, stroking. The movement seems caring… intimate. Contrasted with the downright crudeness of his actions further up, it has Ste's toes curling, his hands searching around blindly to find Brendan's own.

When Brendan removes his tongue, the coldness leaves Ste startled, his eyes flying open. Brendan's looking him over… his eyes trailing from the obscene slobbery mess of Ste's buttocks, to his dick pressed hard and proud against his stomach… then up to Ste's eyes, reviewing Brendan watchfully – trying to work out what he's going to do next.

"Fuck, I missed you." Brendan breathes. He lowers himself down over him, bites Ste's earlobe – hard.

Ste just responds with half-whimper half-moan, folds his arms around Brendan's neck and pulls him in for a kiss. He can't get enough of the Irishman. Can't get enough of how Brendan devours him… how Brendan looks at him like he's the only man in his entire universe. He'd told himself that love was a myth – that it was dangerous, destructive, damaging. It's still all those things, but then so is he… and he wants more of it. More of Brendan. More of Brendan's devotion. He always will.

He even allows himself to fill with a sense of happiness and completion as he slides his tongue against Brendan's. The moustache against the top of his lip feels safe in its familiarity, sexy in its reminder of old times. He's so hard. Aching for Brendan instinctively. Every part of his body desiring to be closer and closer and closer.

Brendan tries to pull away, about to travel south again, but Ste stops him – hasn't had enough yet. He laps at Brendan's mouth with his own until their kiss becomes animalistic and crude… saliva being lapped obscenely across lips. Brendan pushes his thumb – firm first, then intrusively hard – against Ste's lips and spreads their joint spit around Ste's mouth and chin. He must look a state. Just how Brendan likes him. And Christ, Brendan's eyes are dark and invasive in their review of Ste's mouth. He studies Ste's lips like they're a masterpiece and he's contemplating just where to hang them. For a moment they're both still – reviewing each other – Ste waiting with baited breath for Brendan's instruction.

Brendan pushes Ste downwards. Rough, but not forcefully so… just enough to make Ste's dick twinge with need as his mouth finds Brendan's cock and takes it inside. Low enough for Ste to see Brendan's knees buckle and shudder as he sucks him from base to tip.

"Fuck…" He hears Brendan sigh.

Ste doesn't hold back. He knows exactly how to get Brendan like this – he hasn't changed at all. Ste sucks hard, slurps loudly, uses his tongue to tease and taste and test and gratify. He loves the feel of it when Brendan's hands tangle and grip his hair… loves the noises he provokes from his old lover when Brendan loses control and starts to thrust into Ste's mouth and Ste takes all of it.

He ends up on his back, Brendan's hips held loosely between his fingers as Brendan pushes dominatingly between his willing open lips. Brendan's hands move backwards and starts to handle Ste's dick, pumping it with teasing gentleness as he thrusts into his mouth.

Until Ste can handle it no more.

He releases Brendan's cock with a pop, takes it sloppily in his palm and breathes with the last remaining breaths he has, "Fuck me."

It was only yesterday that they'd slept together in the rehab – reconnected their bodies effortlessly – experienced the excruciating pleasure. Even under the sedation, Ste's whole body had been on fire from the connection. He's wanted nothing since other than to do it again – hasn't even considered a fix when this is all that's consumed his mind.

He wants it just the same as yesterday. Passionate… intense… rough.

Which is why, when Brendan climbs back onto the bed with the condoms and lube, Ste pushes the lube away.

"No, without it." He croaks.

Brendan's eyes flash seductively, impossibly turned on. "You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Ste's impatient. He pushes the lube to the floor, arches onto his back with his arse pushed out for Brendan's dick.

He can see the lust in Brendan's eyes… the way he practically salivates at the mouth with the vivid memories of yesterdays encounter… the rough raw conviction of it. It's what they're both thinking… what they both anticipate recreating.

Ste's breath is hitched, tongue licks his lips eagerly as Brendan begins to push into him…

But then Brendan stops suddenly. Draws back. His expression is different… clouded… a look of realisation about him.

And Ste feels immediate panic.

"What?" He whispers hurriedly.

Brendan looks stricken with something – disturbed by a memory.

"When…" he breathes, "When was the last time you got checked?"

Ste blinks, confused, frustrated. "What?"

"We didn't use a condom." Brendan says plainly. "Yesterday – we didn't…"

Ste feels his heart sinking. The look of dread on Brendan's face explained. Yesterday had been frenzied and impulsive… no other thoughts present other than the need to be close, together. But now Brendan's mind is coming back to him. And he's thinking about needles… and men… and the dirty little whore Ste really is.

Ste feels humiliation pulsate through him. Pulls his knees to his chest to cover himself and prays that Brendan just spit it out – get it over and done with. A man who's always made the effort to be clean and safe has just fucked someone unprotected who he clearly considers filthy, and quite rightly.

"Fuck." Brendan groans, confirming Ste's fears. "Fuck, fuck… shit."

"'m sorry." Ste mumbles, and hates to feel his own face burning red with shame.

"No," Brendan breathes, "You haven't got anythin' to be sorry for."

But he's climbing from the bed, away from Ste, so he clearly doesn't believe that.

"We'll have to get checked." He says, making a grab for his phone. "Tomorrow… after the baptism."

Fuck.

Ste had completely forgotten about the fucking baptism.

Brendan had mentioned it in the car on the way home yesterday, but in his sedated state, Ste had barely registered it. But Brendan expects him to attend the party for Cheryl's child. Expects Ste to go there and face Cheryl again… and all of Cheryl's friends… figures of Ste's past. After everything that happened. After this.

Ste climbs from the bed, reaches for his jogging bottoms.

"Hey," Brendan says – softer this time.

He touches Ste's shoulder, but Ste flinches away from it and snaps, "What?!"

Brendan seems surprised by his irritation.

"I'm sorry, Steven." He says. But he doesn't sound like he means it.

He's got nothing to be sorry for and Ste knows it, but the humiliation he feels is still fresh. He feels cheap and disgusting and just wants to get out of this bedroom… away from Brendan and the fears he knows Brendan has about him.

"Steven!" Brendan calls after him as Ste makes his way into the living room.

Ste lights up a cigarette, takes a long heavy drag.

It's not enough. He feels tears sting hotly in his eyes; his body pre-empting what his mind refuses to review… thoughts of Walker and Andy and Gordon and all the other men he's been with. The image of that panic flashing in Brendan's eyes just before he'd pulled away from him, like Ste was hot iron.

"Don't do that!" Brendan's exasperated voice cuts through his trance… and Ste is almost surprised to find himself pulling the belt around his own arm.

"Why not?" He says numbly.

"Because ye don't need it, Steven."

He didn't think he did. After his 18 days sober, Ste had really planned to try as hard as he could. But now he does need it – and what's the point in refusing himself when the needles have already corrupted him anyway? He can hardly make himself any worse… any more dirty, can he? He's come this fucking far – why not keep going?

"So you're gonna go to my nephews baptism off your fuckin' head?!" Brendan demands, growing angry.

"So what?! S'not like he'll care, is it?! It's not till later anyway!"

"I thought you were gonna try and make things up with Cheryl."

"Just leave me alone, Brendan."

Hard to imagine now that only ten minutes ago, Brendan had his tongue in his arse – and they were the most connected and intimate of anyone on the planet.

"Alright, I get it, I've pissed you off." Brendan says. "I didn't mean anythin' by it – I just said we should get checked!"

Ste scrabbles faster for the needle; wanting to block out Brendan's words, wanting to stop his own thoughts, his own tears, before they can rise to the surface.

He plunges it into his arm, and feels Brendan seethe and stiffen beside him. Feels relief and pleasure and numbness overcome him, and is only vaguely aware of Brendan turning on his heel and striding from the room.

Not that he has any right to be angry. He signed Ste out of rehabilitation in the first place. He essentially agreed to take him like this. So fuck him.

XOXOXOXOXOXOX

Ste hardly has it in him to feel anxious during the car journey to the church. He injected hours ago but still feels the intense relief of it now – can't bring himself to care about Brendan or Cheryl or baby Connor.

He and Brendan barely speak for the duration of the journey, but as Brendan pulls up he mutters, "Jus' stick with me, okay? S'gonna be shit, but we'll leave as soon as possible."

It's only when Ste finds himself walking up to the church entrance that he for the first time regrets taking the drugs. His heart starts hammering and a thin layer of sweat dampens the back of his neck.

There are so many people here. They're all dressed in beautiful suits and dresses, chattering amongst themselves, laughing, holding elegant glasses of champagne. Even worse are the faces Ste recognises. The girl who worked in the club with the thick black eyeliner and coloured streaks in her hair. The posh lad with the curls… Barney… with his arm around a girls waist. Nancy… with a toddler on her hip. So many eyes turn to him and Brendan as they make their way towards the crowd. The freaks among the humans.

Ste becomes overtly conscious of how wide his pupils must be… how spaced out he is. He stays positively glued to Brendan's side, accepts the champagne that Brendan offers him gladly and sinks it back whilst Brendan does the same.

"Brendan!" The eyeliner-girl cries.

"Ashley." Brendan addresses flatly.

"I didn't know you'd been released! They let you out early?!"

"I was on my best behaviour."

"So that's why Cheryl waited until today." Ash smiles, "Have you met Connor?"

"He's my nephew, isn't he?!" Brendan bites.

Ash seems unaffected by his brash tone – seems to think she has some kind of friendship with him. She practically glowers around Brendan and ignores Ste completely – which is what he prefers. It's better than the looks of distaste he's receiving off some of the others… his eyes scan over Darren… and Nate… and…

"Shit." He mutters.

Even motherfucking Doug is here. Ste somehow hadn't expected Cheryl to have kept in contact with everybody… although now he feels stupid for assuming so, just because he didn't. Doug's got a bloke beside him and it takes Ste a minute to recognise that it's John-Paul. Christ. He never imagined they'd make it this long… not with Doug playing second-best all over again, but clearly John-Paul's got more resolve than he ever had. He's making Doug laugh. Acting like the perfect boyfriend. The one who won't ditch Doug, then ridicule him, then push him away with wild accusations about stalking and hateful 'fuck off's.

Ste knocks back another glass of champagne.

"We won't stay long, will we?" He whispers to Brendan.

Brendan shakes his head, but he's distracted.

Second-last person Ste wants to see. Cheryl is bounding over to them.

"Now there's a sight for sore eyes!" Brendan beams, embracing his sister with the most earnest of tight squeezes.

But over his shoulder Cheryl's eyes glaze and trace with concern over Ste.

"Hiya." He mutters, feeling more self-conscious than he's ever done in his life. Fuck he wishes the drugs would wear off. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I didn't realise you were coming." Cheryl says. "I thought you were in rehab."

"He got signed out." Brendan explains shortly.

"Well you should have told me… I don't know if we have enough seats…"

Cheryl at least has the decency to act awkward and embarrassed about not wanting Ste here. It doesn't stop the second stab of humiliation though.

"It's alright." Ste says, before Brendan can respond. "I'll jus' wait in the car."

"No don't be stupid!" Brendan responds, "Chez, c'mon, we're not here to cause any trouble, okay?"

"Brendan, his pupils are blown wide open – did you really think I would be okay with this?! Today is about Connor, okay? About my little boy! I just, I…"

Cheryl glances around, anxious not to cause a scene in front of her guests.

She lowers her tone, "I'm not happy about this, Brendan."

"We'll talk about it later." Brendan says, with an air of finality.

It seems that will have to satisfy her. In that moment Nate and Nancy come over with their respective toddlers and Cheryl is forced to let it lie, proceeding to squeal and coo like an overexcited child with Ste temporarily forgotten.

Brendan downs a glass of champagne, appearing stressed, and passes one to Ste so he can do the same.

"I shouldn't've come." Ste mumbles.

"I invited ye, didn't I? I want ye here."

"My God, everyone here hates me."

"Me too." Brendan says simply, "Fuck 'em."

He puts an arm around Steven's shoulders, casual but supportive, and Ste finds himself feeling safer, securer, under Brendan's guide. They both move into the church and find pews with a fresh fourth glass of champagne each and sit through the entire ceremony without any further trouble. Ste does catch Doug's eye at one point, but the American quickly looks away again… and that's the end of it.

They have to go to some after-party afterwards, in some swanky hotel that only Nate could afford and only Cheryl could make tacky. Because the bouquets of flowers and overbearing huge pictures of Connor are tacky. But Brendan beams at the picture of the little lad, his third glass of whisky wrapped in his hand and slightly rocky on his feet as he slurs, "He looks just like his ma'."

"He looks like you a bit." Ste observes. "S'got your eyes more than Cheryl's. All blue and shiny."

"Hmm." Brendan sighs thoughtfully, and then smiles. "Ye reckon he's gonna have my swagger n'all?"

"Don't know." Ste responds, and takes another swig of beer. "I feel well out of it, me."

Brendan obviously decides to take advantage of Ste's less functioning state.

"Steven, I'm sorry about earlier."

"Look, I don't want to talk about it, right?"

"Right – but ye know it's nothin' to do with you. I'd have the same thing if it'd been anyone."

"Anyone?!" Ste cries, voice louder and more obnoxious with the intoxication of drink and drugs. "Nah, you wouldn't 'ave even done it with anyone!"

"Alrigh', keep your voice down will ye?!"

"You'd only do that with me, but then you make me feel like shit cos of somethin' you started!"

"Okay!" Brendan hisses, and glances around, wary of his promise to Cheryl.

"You came there, you got all on top of me and decided to not use the condom, alright? You need to take the responsibility!"

"I am!" Brendan cries, incredulous, face reddening with irritation, "How is this me not takin' responsibility?! I don't even get what you're gettin' so fuckin' angry about!"

"YOU!" Ste bites back, "Bein' a dick all the time!"

"Oh, I'm being a dick?!"

"You're always a dick!"

"You took crack before my nephew's funeral!"

"Right, exactly!" Ste barks.

Before he knows it he's tossed his beer full at Brendan's front, the substance spilling and splashing down the older mans suit. But Ste's marching away before even waiting for the reaction. And he knows that to Brendan his words and actions don't make sense, but he hates that Brendan thinks he's cheap, or a waster, and he hates that Brendan continues to judge his habit when he was the one who signed Ste out of rehab in the first place. When he was the one that initiated the sex. When he was the one who left Ste in the beginning, commencing the downward spiral that made him end up here – intoxicated, infected, impossible to love.

He's so distracted by his thoughts that he almost misses her.

He would – if she wasn't so impossible to miss.

Not much over four feet high… running and giggling at the end of the hotel corridor… just metres from where Ste stands now. She's around nine-years-old with blonde hair and flowery jeans and a grown-up hand-bag that hangs below her knees.

Leah.

His little girl. His little Leah… the most missed and torturous figment of his past to date.

And he can't even bring himself to approach her. Finds no words… no movement. He's just still… dumbfounded… reeling. What is she doing here?!

"LEAH!" Calls the voice of Amy, "C'mon – we're goin'! Come on!"

"But we only just got here!" Leah cries, anguished, "I want to play with Connor!"

"Not today okay?! We've got to go home!"

Amy sounds stressed… hurried. And then Leah's gone. Slumped her sulky shoulders and followed her mothers orders – run off, out of Ste's sight.

Ste feels he can hardly breathe… leans on the wall for support… the world rocking. He tries to focus on what he's just seen and what he should do about it, but drugs and drink distort his brain, and so does Brendan's voice calling him; "Steven! Steven!" rattling angrily through his head.

And then Brendan's hands on his shoulders… and then his arms grabbing him… supporting him… as Ste rocks heavily.

"Woah, woah – you okay?! Steven, speak to me!"

"I just saw Leah." He says… and is frustrated as his voice slurs and slows… not as urgent as he needs it to sound.

"Leah? What d'ye mean? Where?"

"Cheryl's been in contact with 'em this whole time!" Ste cries… the truth of it hitting him, his brain sluggish to wrap his head around this turn of events.

"Okay, hey, look at me."

Brendan takes Ste's face in his hands – his touch soft but firm, their argument forgotten in the light of more pressing events. Brendan draws Ste's eyes to his own… penetrates him with his resolved gaze, giving Ste a sense of strength and clarity.

"We've gotta find 'em, Brendan!"

"We will, Steven, but ye can't see them in this state, okay? Look at you – it's not a good idea."

"They're leavin' though – we've gotta stop 'em!"

"Listen, Cheryl will know where they live…"

"No." Ste shakes his head frantically. He needs to see them now… can't let them walk out of his life again, would rather die. "No – please. Please Bren, you've gotta go stop 'em."

"Steven, I don't think Amy will listen to me." Brendan says seriously.

"Please." Ste pulls himself from Brendan's grip, uses the wall to support himself, "I'm gonna go get some water, kay? An'… and you just tell 'em that… that daddy's coming. I jus' need to sober up and then…"

He fumbles his way back down the corridor; needs to trust in this moment that Brendan will do what's best for him and bring back his family. Finds that he does trust Brendan to do that; trusts him explicitly.

He somehow finds his way back to the main lobby, through to the ballroom where Cheryl's guests mill about chirpily. He makes it to the bar and asks for a glass of water, wills his body to get a grip on itself… wills his mind to get back in control of the situation. For Leah and Lucas's sake he needs to get a grip.

"Ste. Long time no see."

The voice to the side of him is just a mild distraction – something he can shut out of his mind as he chugs the water back. He's got one goal, and that's to sober. Nobody is going to get in the way of that, so he ignores the voice completely.

"Charming as ever." John-Paul says, although he sounds more amused than disgruntled.

"Get lost John-Paul." Ste mutters distractedly.

"You're back with Brendan then?"

Fuck. He's not going to fuck off. Ste forgot what a fucking arsehole this guy was.

"Looks like that, dunit?" He pours himself another water, gulps it back.

"Last time I saw you, you were swearing you hated him."

"I don't remember that."

"No, you were pretty off your face then as well."

Ste's had enough of this. He turns to John-Paul for the first time and says with as much conviction as his slurred voice will allow, "Look, just fuckin' DO ONE will ya?!"

His voice is loud enough to have alerted Doug to the disturbance, and because Ste's just that lucky, Doug starts to make his way over now.

"Is everything okay?!" He says, eyes moving between Ste and John-Paul wearily.

As if he's afraid Ste's going to snap and lash out any moment.

And Ste finds he likes that. Likes the power it makes him feel.

"Everything's fine." John-Paul breezes, "Well, I say fine… Ste's turned up to a Christening wasted but…"

"It's a baptism." Ste corrects irritably.

"Wait… are you high?!" Doug cries, incredulous, "Amy told me you were in rehab! I thought you were getting yourself sor…"

Everything Doug says after that seems to blur into a distortion of shock and horror and betrayal.

Amy told me you were in rehab.

AMY TOLD ME YOU WERE IN REHAB.

But… why would Amy be talking to Doug about him? When Ste hasn't seen either of them in three years?! How would she know that? How would he know that? Why is Amy here… with his children… with his friends… continuing a life that Ste's not a part of anymore…

"Wait, wait…" Ste says – and there's an edge in his voice that takes away the slur. An anger that masks even the drug intake. "You've been talkin' to Amy?"

Doug stops talking.

Tenses… like he's realised his mistake.

He says nothing. But Ste already knows the answer.

"You been seein' my kids as well?" He asks.

"Look," John-Paul tries to interject, "I think you need to sober up, mate…"

His hands are on Ste's chest, nudging him away from Doug. But Ste shoves him… needs to get his fucking hands off him right now.

John-Paul stumbles slightly… just enough to knock some glasses off the bar, for them to SMASH across the floor, for the guests' voices to quieten and eyes to travel to their confrontation.

But Ste's only looking at Doug.

"Answer me!" He demands. "You've been seein' me kids?!"

Doug looks red and uncomfortable and mutters, "I mean… not all the time. On occasion, yeah."

And the confirmation is almost too much to take. That Amy wouldn't trust Ste with them, would reject his birthday and Christmas presents, but she would take them to visit Doug… fucking St fucking perfect Doug who's not so fucking perfect as he thinks he is.

"Look, Ste, it's not a big deal!" Doug reasons, "Me and Amy are friends, we just…"

"Since when?! She's NOT your friend, she's MY friend!"

"Right, Ste, I think it's time to go." That's Cheryl now. And she's touching him too – why is everybody TOUCHING him?! Why is everybody PUSHING him? Why is everybody telling him what to do?! Living his life?!

"Get off me!" He spits at her. She takes her hands off him like he's given her an electric shock – fear in her eyes as she addresses the anger in his.

There it is again. That sense of power.

"Who gave you the right to go near my kids?!" Ste confronts Doug furiously.

"Well they needed SOMEONE, Ste! While you were off getting high and fucking Walker!"

There's a scream.

Amongst the red haze Ste feels flesh under his fist. Hears glasses smashing, people shouting, hands grabbing him from behind and hoisting him away from the destruction he's just created.

Amongst the babble of shocked and furious voices ("Get him out of here!" "Who the hell do you think you are?!" "That's just typical!" "Nasty little brute!") he is pushed into a firm chest… feels Brendan's hands taking hold of him with their firmness and concern.

Loyal, strong, trustworthy Brendan.

So trustworthy that he delivered on the impossible task Ste gave him.

And now Ste looks into the shocked and terrified faces of his own children, who turn from Doug's bleeding face to their daddy's blown-out pupils.

XOXOXOX

I really hope Ste's not become unlikeable. He just needs love!