"I'm sorry."

He's not entirely sure why he says it, knows that Brendan can't blame him, not with the way he's looking at him, not when he's got a situation all of his own. But doubts still swim in Ste's head, the possibility of Brendan accusing him of being some dirty fag, of hurting him properly this time. This isn't like with Callum, where he could at least escape from his company for a few hours. They live together.

He's not imagining it, is he? The way Brendan's looking at him, the reaction that Ste's caused in him. Perhaps this is normal. Brendan is locked up here day after day. He doesn't seem like Walker, willing to take whatever he can get from the officers. Maybe he doesn't even realise what's happened. Maybe he'll be as embarrassed as Ste is.

Brendan looks at Ste's trousers then, directly at him. When he stares at his eyes again his lips are parted. This definitely isn't normal.

"Think I've missed it too much already, you know?" Ste laughs, and it sounds awkward to his ears, too loud and forced. "I mean it's been a while since I...I had Rae, didn't I? My girlfriend...and she ended things, and so I guess I'm just missing it..." He's rambling more than he ever has, even more than Brendan's used to, and Ste can see the older's mans eyebrows quirk up, like he's trying to decide between throttling him or banging his own head against the wall.

"You never mentioned a girlfriend."

"Haven't I?"

"No," Brendan says quietly.

It's hard to think of anything but Brendan's proximity right now. Ste tries to think of anything to stop the erection that he's covering with his hands. The peeling wallpaper of the cell. The fact that anyone could be looking in at them. The hardness of the bed.

Oh fuck, the bed.

"Sorry."

"Why do you keep on apologising?"

The reasoning was so clear to Ste, but suddenly now he's not sure. He just knows that the shame of it is making him sweat, is making it hard to talk sense of any kind. There's no hiding from this anymore. Somehow talking about it makes it more real than doing it. A part of him could be disconnected when he went to clubs, when he fucked some meaningless guy in the toilets. He told himself that it was just something he did sometimes, that it was scratching an itch, that he still went home to Amy and the kids. You couldn't be gay and have a family, could you?

"Have you ever done this before?"

This? What is this? What are we doing?

"Have you?"

"I asked first."

"Well I'm asking you right back."

Brendan grits his teeth, looks to the ceiling, "Jesus" muttered under his breath. "Do you ever just do what someone tells you? Fucking frustrating."

Ste smirks at him, intensely relieved that Brendan's irritation has dissolved some of the tension between them.

"I wouldn't exactly be in here if I did, would I?"

"Point." He leans back against the wall by Ste's bed, and Ste notices that his hard on has gone down. He wonders if he's pathetic for being disappointed. "Yeah, I've done this before."

Ste suddenly realises this is what all of Warren's digs were about. All those times he's asked him whether Brendan had beat him up yet, or...

Is this what everyone was waiting for? Is he the only one who didn't have a clue?

"But you were married..." Ste can't help but interject.

Brendan laughs gruffly. "Want to know how many years I was faithful during that marriage?"

Ste shifts in the bed, Brendan following his movements. He's used to sharing the bed with Amy, curled up together watching DVDs and sharing a tub of ice cream. He's not used to feeling so unsafe like this, unsafe because anything could happen, and he's not sure he's ready for that yet.

"How many guys have you gone out with then?" He thinks he might be pushing it, can see the discomfort on Brendan's face, guesses that he's not got a Pride flag hidden under his bedcovers. But he doesn't tell him to stop either.

"I've never gone out with anyone, Steven. That's not...that's not what I do."

Doesn't Brendan know that Ste's got to dress this up somehow? What is he meant to say - how many guys have you fucked?

"There were a few...lads," he continues, voice so low that Ste hardly dares to breathe in case he misses something.

"In here?" Ste feels strangely possessive of the fact, wonders if they're still in the building, waiting in the wings for midnight visits from Brendan. What if the reason why he's never heard Brendan having any nightmares since is because he's been going to other cells? Ste can just imagine the sway that he has in this place, can picture him threatening the guards to unlock the door, keeping them quiet by his violent promises of what he can do to them.

"Not anymore. There was one."

Brendan's tone is enough for Ste to probe him further. "Who was he?"

"Some boy."

Ste wonders if he was the same age as him. Wonders if Brendan has a type, and doesn't know whether he feels flattered that he might be it.

"Did he get released?"

"No. He was...he was killed."

Ste swallows, the reality of the situation once again hitting him with its full impact. He's in prison. These things happen, and he could be next.

He's surprised when Brendan doesn't stop talking, doesn't shut down on him.

"Vincent...Danny killed him..."

Ste doesn't think he imagines the way Brendan's eyes turn misty. He doesn't dare ask if he's crying, knows that if he does not even this undefined thing between them could save him.

"Danny?"

"He got moved to another prison. Somewhere more secure, last time I heard." Brendan's voice is harsher, and Ste can almost see him killing the vulnerability that was there, replacing it with something hard, cold.

"That's awful, I -"

"Yeah, well there's no use crying about the past, is there? Waste of time. It's done."

"But -"

"So, now that you've asked me." Brendan faces him, smile on his lips, eyes trailing down his body. "It's my turn."

Ste squirms uncomfortably, hates being under the spotlight like this. He feels woefully inexperienced and inadequate - at life, at sex, at love. He's surprised Brendan can't spot that a mile off.

"What do you want to know?" He hopes that Brendan's at least a bit more subtle than Walker, and doesn't demand to know if he's a novice.

"You ever slept with a guy, Steven?"

No such luck then.

"Er, well I..." He's blushing. Fuck. This shouldn't be so difficult, but God knows it is. The way Brendan's looking at him encourages him though, makes him feel hot all over, makes him believe for one second that he's desirable, that this could lead somewhere good.

"Yeah."

Brendan's face falls. Is he actually disappointed that I'm not a virgin?

"How many times?" He asks immediately.

"Brendan!" Ste kicks his leg with his foot.

"We're both adults here aren't we, Steven? It's not a fucking maths equation, it's a simple question."

"I...I don't really know. I can't remember," he admits, embarrassed.

Brendan looks away, eyes downcast. Yeah. Definitely disappointed.

"Which way do you do it, then?"

Ste almost asks him to repeat the question, feeling his eyes bulging in their sockets.

"I'm thinking...bottom." Brendan smiles, the bastard.

"What does that mean exactly?" Ste asks in a small voice.

"It means you take it, while I give it."

Jesus. Ste blinks rapidly, can feel sweat on the back of his neck, running down his t-shirt.

"I...I guess I am then, yeah." Gay studies was definitely not on his timetable at school.

He tries to ignore the way Brendan's all but licking his lips. Ste resolutely keeps his hands over his lap.

"What have you tried?"

Ste knows full well that he could tell him to stop, that this isn't a conversation they should ever be having. That one moment Ste was thinking about Amy never forgiving him, and now he's here, talking to a prisoner about the guys he's had sex with. What's even more worrying is that he has no intention of stopping. He's enjoying it.

Ste opens and closes his mouth like a fish, not knowing how to reply. Most of his encounters have been frantic, desperate fumbles, not even lasting half an hour. The word foreplay has barely come into it.

Brendan senses his uncertainty. "Have you rimmed?"

"What's that?"

Brendan looks half exasperated, half amused. "Jesus boy, don't tell me you've never...has no one honestly ever?"

"Alright, you smug git! Just because I'm not an expert."

Brendan stares at him curiously. "Do you even know what it is?"

Ste doesn't want to admit that aside from Walker mentioning it once, he's never heard the term before.

"I'll show you." Like it's that simple, like they're actually going to do this. Oh God.

The questions don't stop there. Ste feels like he's answering some questionnaire at the doctors, only it's being conducted by a very hairy Irishman, who's staring at him with barely contained lust.

"You ever gone down..." Ste guesses that sentence doesn't end with town.

"Once." He remembers him being shoved on his knees by a particular over zealous guy. "And with Rae."

Brendan snorts. "It's a bit different, trust me boy."

Ste thinks about how big Brendan's dick had looked, tenting his trousers. How the hell is he meant to take that down his mouth?

"What have you done then?" Ste bites back.

"Everything."

He shivers at the smoothness of Brendan's voice. He can well believe it, and it's thrilling and intimidating all at once.

Brendan moves in the bed, so suddenly that Ste jumps, and he leans back on his pillow, still not ruling out a beating. Brendan's movements are slow, predatory, precise, and he plants his hands either side of Ste's head, his body above his own, essentially trapping him. He wants to kiss him right now, badly, and imagines the feel of Brendan's moustache brushing against his upper lip, the prickle and roughness of it.

Brendan doesn't even ask for his permission, must read it in his face, his expression begging him when his words don't.

He leans forward, and Ste knows that he has to stop it, but he can't resist that first taste, the initial movement of their lips together. He's so fucking curious as to how they'll fit, if it'll be as good as his imagination suggests.

The feel of Brendan's facial hair is strange at first, almost ticklish, and Ste smiles into the kiss. Brendan's lips are very, very warm, and they move with his tentatively at first, as if searching for something, as if they both can't quite believe they're doing this. Ste knows that it's only a matter of time though, that nothing about Brendan is tentative. He can feel his mouth opening up from Brendan's encouragement, can already envisage the hands in hair and tongues rubbing together.

"No. Stop."

Brendan draws back immediately, but Ste can see the effort it's taking, his eyes never leaving Ste's lips, his own shining from the contact of their mouths.

"I think we've done enough talking, don't you?" The sound of his voice is enough to make Ste want to tell his conscience to shut up, and grab Brendan and let him show him exactly what rimming is.

"I don't think we should do this." It takes all of his willpower to say it, willpower he didn't even know he had.

Brendan looks angry, and it's enough to make Ste shuffle away from his body and sit up in bed, resolutely keeping his distance. It's the stark reminder that he needed, the reminder of who Brendan really is.

"I didn't know I was living with a hormonal girl."

"Oi, don't start that now just because I said no!"

Brendan opens his mouth in retaliation, but Ste can visibly see his temper dying down.

"Of course you can...of course you can say no. You have every right to..." He continues to mumble inaudibly. "Sorry."

It sounds alien to hear an apology from Brendan, more unnatural than his sarcasm and his coldness.

"It's okay," Ste sniffs. He can't believe that seconds ago they were kissing, and now a walls already gone up. He's the one who put it there, but he wishes Brendan could understand that he has to, that walls are for protection.

"Why don't you want to?" Brendan asks quietly, unable to stop the distinct sound of vulnerability from creeping in.

"I do," he answers honestly. "I just think it's not a good idea. I mean we're in here..."

"You're lying." It comes out emotionless, and it's somehow more frightening than if Brendan was snarling it accusingly.

Ste feels defensive, looking round the cell to avoid Brendan's eyes on him. "I'm not even going to be here that much longer."

"That mouth of yours doesn't look so pretty right now, Steven." This is what Brendan does, he realises. He doesn't make threats like Warren to wound. He stabs away until there's nothing left.

"You're ashamed of me." Again, not an accusation.

"No." It ends up sounding a lot like yes.

"Think you're better than me, do you?" Brendan stands up, creating even more distance between them, pacing the cell, his voice echoing around the room. "Think that because you're in here for shoplifting then you're some kind of respectable criminal?" He laughs. "Trust me, you're not."

"Well at least I'm not a killer."

Brendan laughs, on and on until Ste wants to scream at him to stop. He starts clapping, and Ste hates it, how he can desire someone so much one minute, and be utterly terrified of them the next.

"The boy speaks the truth at last!" He says it like he's speaking to an imaginary audience.

"Brendan, I didn't mean that -"

"Yes you did." He towers over Ste, and he feels incredibly small in comparison to Brendan's domineering size. "You don't want to fuck a murderer."

"Can you blame me? Look I never thought...I never thought this would happen, okay? That I'd come here and meet you."

"Don't make out that this is some kind of love story, Steven. You're just...convenient."

Ste gets to his feet and pushes Brendan forcefully, finally channeling some of his anger at Amy leaving, at him screwing everything up, at being stuck in here with a psychopath as a cellmate, and not knowing whether to kiss him or to kill him.

Brendan staggers back, staring at Ste in shock rather than pain. Ste's breathing fast, deep shallow breaths, adrenaline coursing through him, enough to make him want to dig himself out of this place, the strength of his hands alone making him powerful enough to find an escape route.

"Convenient? Is that all this is then? You're just doing this because I'm here with you, because you don't have any better options?"

"You're the one who's saying no to this." He's recovered from the push now, and he's circling Ste in the cell like a shark, Ste moving away from him with every step closer.

"Fine, you want the truth?" He's in wounded mode, still reeling from Brendan's words. It's dangerous being like this, like he has no ownership of his own mouth, insults spilling out of him now, designed to hurt as much as possible. With Amy he's learnt to keep them in check, to master some form of control. She calms him somehow, but with Brendan everything is heightened, some weird energy between them that he can't run from.

"Yes, I don't want to...be with a murderer. I can't be with someone who's done what you have."

Brendan stops circling, and the words seem to have physically winded him, punched a hole through him so that when he takes a breath, it looks like he's gasping.

"How much do you know?"

"Enough. That you killed your dad."

"Steven -" He reaches out, and Ste flinches back from the touch, knows that if he lets Brendan put his hands on him then that's it. He won't be able to resist twice.

The sound of the doors being unlocked is the most welcome sound he's ever heard. It's one of the bastard guards, and his face only twists even more when Ste smiles at him with intense gratitude.

"Dinner," he grunts, and Ste avoids Brendan's gaze as he leaves the cell, doesn't want to see anything there which will make him change his mind. Right now he needs to concentrate on Brendan's crime, his sentence, the fact that a jury have deemed him dangerous enough to be locked up here forever. He doesn't want to see the human underneath.

Ste makes his way over to his usual table, and is surprised to see only Ethan and Warren there. Whenever they are in public Doug always makes sure that he's with Ethan, as some form of protection against Warren. Ste knows that when they're behind closed doors no one can save him, has seen the bruises that cover Ethan's arms when he still thinks he can fight back.

Warren has an arm slung around Ethan, Ethan looking sick with nerves and disgust when Warren's eyes aren't on him. He greets Ste with a genuine joy he's never shown before.

"Sit down, please!"

"Where's Doug?"

"Aw, looking for your boyfriend are you rat boy?" Warren puts a chip into his mouth, deliberately chewing it slowly, surveying Ste with dark eyes.

"Something like that, yeah." He's learnt that arguing back with Warren is pointless, that it'll only lead to more aggression, like it's an endless maze that he'll never find his way out of.

"He had English class I think." Ethan stares around the dining room, like if he just searches hard enough, he can magically conjure Doug up.

"Right, well I'm going to go and find him." He tries to apologise to Ethan with his eyes, wishes that his presence alone could make a difference, but it can't. If anything Warren relishes it like they're putting on a performance for him, draping his body over his, showing the world that Ethan belongs to him.

As he makes his way over to the classroom, his stomach churns as he thinks about what will happen that night, when he and Brendan are alone in the darkness for hours. What if Brendan's just like Warren, and he'll force through, even if Ste tells him no? How does he know that they're not all the same, and that Brendan doesn't just view him as some kind of pet? Maybe he should feel grateful that Walker at least offered him a contract, a way out.

But Brendan had stopped, hadn't he? Straight away, like he'd had an electric shock to his system, even if he hadn't wanted to. Even if he'd ridiculed and teased Ste about it, even if he'd been furious, he'd still stopped.

When Ste reaches the classroom, he thinks he's too late, that Doug must have already left. It's already fifteen minutes after the lesson, although Ste can well imagine Doug as someone who would stay behind, eyes big and bright and hopeful like a puppy's, his tail all but wagging, falling over his words to Lynsey.

He doesn't look through the screen door, just walks right in expecting to find nothing but an empty room.

It lasts less than a second, lips crushed together, hands in hair, bodies leaning against the desk, but it's enough.

They spring apart when they see him, so terrified that Ste can almost hear their hearts hammering. He can just imagine what his own face looks like, like something out of one of those cartoons, his mouth as wide open as a fly trap.

He wonders if that's what he and Brendan would have been like if he hadn't stopped him, and feels an irrational pang of jealousy.

"Ste!" They say it at the same time, in sync, everything in sync, from their positions to their unruly hair to their startled expressions. Ste feels like he's just intruded on something intimate, and it's enough to make him want to step outside the room and un see what he saw.

"Sorry, I was just coming to find you..."

Lynsey brushes herself down, and any anger Ste felt about being moved classes has been replaced by intense embarrassment for her. He doesn't know what to do with his eyes, doesn't want to look at them and make this even more uncomfortable, but he can't not look.

"I know this must be confusing for you, but..." She begins.

"Let me deal with this, Lyns." Like Ste's their child.

Lynsey leaves the classroom, and Ste feels her raw humiliation, can practically hear her thoughts, I'm going to lose my job, someone knows.

When the door closes it's as though Doug springs into action, losing the hesitancy, shutting the door firmly and all but dragging Ste to the corner of the classroom out of sight.

"You can't tell anyone about this."

Ste feels offended that he'd even think that. "I'm not going to."

"I mean it, if anyone finds out -"

"Relax Doug! I'm not going to tell anyone. How long has this been going on for anyway?"

"Not that long." He's not giving me the specifics because he doesn't trust me. Ste tries to stop that from hurting, realistically knows that he's not here to make friends, he's serving his sentence and that's it, back to reality, back to trailing the streets, knocking on doors and begging for someone to hire him. Only this time he'll have the added pressure of Amy picking on his every word, trying to catch him out and see whether he's going to let her down again.

"I thought you just fancied her, I didn't know you were sleeping with her!" Ste nudges him with his elbow, trying to get some semblance of normality back between them.

"We're not -"

"Oh come on Doug, are you expecting me to believe you weren't planning on jumping on her if I hadn't interrupted?"

Doug fidgets sheepishly, his bed hair still in place, and Ste has to resist the urge to smooth it down and make him look more respectable. He can't walk out of the classroom like this, not when he's got I was just about to be shagged written all over him, his cheeks pink, his t-shirt creased.

"I've got to admit, I didn't think prison was going to be like some kind of dating show," he says wryly. "At least it makes me feel better. I don't have to feel so guilty anymore."

"What do you mean?"

He has to tell someone, has to share this thing that's only growing stronger inside of him. There's no one else he can speak to about this, and the longer he keeps it to himself, the more he wants to scream.

"There's sort of a thing...between me and Brendan."

"Fucking hell, Ste!"

It's the first time he's ever heard Doug properly angry. When he'd imagined it in his mind he'd seen something akin to a kitten trying to growl, but the intensity of it disarms him, the unnaturalness. Even now someone shouting still connects with something inside of him, something small and childlike. It repulses him, that he can still feel that kind of fear.

"Please don't tell me somethings happened."

"No - we haven't done anything." He can feel his face saying otherwise.

"You haven't slept together, have you?" Doug looks disgusted, horrified.

"Of course not!" Yet.

"I don't believe you."

Ste sighs, can't believe he's having to justify himself after what he's just seen. "We've just kissed, that's all."

"Ste!"

"It only lasted a second!"

"You don't get bonus points for time, you know. You still kissed him."

Ste drums his fingers on the desk, feels like he could happily slice his knuckles open and punch Doug for good measure. Everything he's learnt in anger management becomes meaningless during times like these. It takes all that he has to hold himself together.

"I didn't even know you're gay."

"I'm not!" It comes out wrong, too defensive to not mean something, but he's tired of these labels, just wants to be what he is, feel what he feels.

"Brady didn't force you to do anything, did he?"

"No." How can he explain that it almost felt the other way round, that ever since he met Brendan, no matter how scared he's been about the idea of him, the things he's heard, he's wanted to be around him. That the idea of being nothing but a passing fancy to him fills Ste with dread, that it twists at his stomach like a knife.

"Then how can you even think of liking someone like that?"

The rational part of Ste that knows that Doug's just looking out for him is replaced by the desire to tell him to butt the fuck out, that he's the only one who gets to make decisions about his life.

"He's different to what everyone thinks."

Doug scoffs, actually scoffs like he's dealing with a unintelligent child. "No offense Ste, but I've been here a bit longer than you. You haven't even known Brendan for two weeks -"

"Well no offense Doug, but you're a hypocrite."

That shuts him up, if only momentarily.

"You can't stand here and talk to me about liking someone who's all wrong for me! Not when I've just caught you snogging your teacher."

"That's a bit different -"

"She could lose her job because of you."

"Well...yeah...but..." He stumbles, hasn't thought a single fucking bit of this through, and Ste laps up that uncertainty, uses it to numb his own shame.

"What's the plan, eh? Continue to sleep with her to pass your GCSEs? Classy." He tries to ignore the way it comes out as classehhh with his accent, hates how he can't ignore his upbringing for a second, even when he's trying to prove he's right.

"I'm not like that, and neither is she. She's a good person, she didn't even want to get involved in this. Do you really think she'd be doing this if it was some stupid fling? We've planned this, Ste."

"Okay, lets hear this genius plan." He crosses his arms and stares at him expectantly, knows he's being sassy as fuck, but it's like it's his default setting, part of his nature which he can't contain, his armour against the world.

"When I get released we're going to be together."

"Right..." Skepticism rolls off his tongue. "So you're just going to set up a home together, are you? Get married, have kids, tell them all about how mummy and daddy met in prison? Real romantic, that. Send me an invite to the wedding."

"How can I? You'll probably still be in here after you reoffend."

Fuck.

Ste laughs, high pitched and bitter, has to remind himself I'm not that guy anymore, I've changed to stop himself from doing what he desires the most.

"Ste, I didn't mean that."

"You did." Doug doesn't deny it, not a second time. "But you know what, don't try and blame me for having feelings for someone when you're no better than I am."

"You have feelings for him?" Ste can hear the judgement there, even when Doug's trying to tone it down.

"Maybe. I don't exactly know why," he admits. "I can't explain it, it's just...it's there."

"I know you don't want to hear it, but -"

"Don't."

"Ste, he killed his own father. At least I'm getting out of here, at least me and Lynsey have a future. What are you going to do, visit Brendan when he's old and grey?"

He doesn't know what he'll do, has barely thought ahead more than a few days. He knows it's impossible, that he can't have a relationship with a lifer. Brendan has made it perfectly clear that it's the last thing he wants, so where does that leave him?

"There's no way that...that he might not be bad, right?"

Doug stares at him full of pity, and somehow it's worse than the anger.

"I know I told you that you didn't want to know the details, but..."

"Don't." His voice cracks. He's not even close to ready to hear this.

"He bashed his skull in with a hammer, Ste."

He blanches, feels instantly sick, wants to be rid of the images that are now forming in his brain. Brendan a cold blooded, mindless killer, devoid of emotion or empathy. The same hands that had touched him, that had rubbed into his skin delicately like he was something precious, capable of ending someone's life.

"Imagine what it must take, to hurt someone like that until they stop breathing. Imagine the blood."

"Fucking hell Doug, why are you doing this? I don't want to know!"

"This is the guy you have feelings for. Someone who left their own dad in a pool of blood, who wasn't even going to tell anyone before he was caught. He's a psycho."

He's not saying anything worse than what Ste's been thinking. Except somewhere along the way he stopped thinking it, and he can no longer make the words psycho and Brendan correlate in his mind. All he can see is the guy who quotes Shakespeare, who demands he makes buttercream icing, who laughs at his own jokes even when nobody else does. Who doesn't just talk for the sake of it, but says something when it matters. Every glimpse of his life that he's shared with Ste - Cheryl, his kids, his marriage, what he was like when he was younger - its meant something.

He wants to tell Doug that a part of him, the part which terrifies him with its ugliness and depravity, wants Brendan in spite of all this. Fuck, maybe even because of it. He knows that kind of darkness, has tasted it, if not murder then the knowledge of what it's like to want someone dead, not just an idle thought but more of a craving, gnawing away at him everyday, only muted when he never had to see Terry again, but never completely silenced.

"I have to get out of here."

"Don't go back to him."

"I'm not..." He's dazed, doesn't know where his footsteps are taking him. "I'm just going back."

But as he leaves Doug in the classroom, he already can feel it, like the path is winding to Brendan, and he's helpless but to be led anywhere but there.

Every face he meets along the way isn't Brendan's. He scans the crowd, looks into the dining room, but he's no longer hungry, doesn't even consider stepping inside. He sees Walker sitting at his usual seat. He could walk over to him and tell him that he's in, he'll be his, because he's starting to realise that whatever it is he feels for men, it's not going to go away. He could get fucked and fuck over Brendan in one clean sweep. It's never been that easy though, not for him. As much as he tries to kill it, it's always there, his heart overruling everything, and he hates that he's this weak.

It's like Brendan's physically pulling him towards him. Knowing the bastard he is, it's like he's got inside Ste's head and messed with everything that was sane, everything that was normal, reprogrammed him somehow so that he's altered forever. Of all his mistakes, and there's been plenty, this is by far his most stupid.

Ste finds Brendan in his cell looking like he hasn't moved an inch since he left him, has barely even breathed. It's not like Brendan to miss out on a meal, the way he devours everything and still has room for more. When Ste comes in he looks surprised to see him, like he'd made his peace with being permanently alone now. Ste resists the urge to say "I'm not going anywhere", that this is the closest thing to a home that he has in this place, and he'll be damned if he loses that.

The only thing that's different is music coming from the battered old CD player that Brendan had brought into the place, transferred from his old cell. Ste's never heard the song before, his own taste consisting of pop music that he can dance to even when drunk. Especially when drunk, although the occasions are few and far between with Leah and Lucas now.

The voice filling his senses is gravelly, the music in the background reminding him of country twang. He suddenly gets an image of Brendan in a barn dance, and shakes his head, knowing he'll be the one laughing at his own jokes if he keeps this up.

"Brendan, I -"

"Shhhhh." He hisses it, placing a finger over his own lips, eyes closed.

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine

I keep my eyes wide open all the time

I keep the ends out for the tie that binds

Because you're mine, I walk the line

"What's this?"

Brendan looks mildly insulted. "It's Johnny Cash." He says it like Ste should know.

"I'm more of a Cheryl Cole man myself, aren't I?" He laughs until Brendan's expression makes him stop, but not before he's done a little dance to demonstrate. Oh God.

"Can you switch this off a second?"

"Why?"

"I want to talk to you, don't I?"

"Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of the man in black."

Ste knows that this is what Brendan does, that he wasn't going to welcome him back with open arms, not after what he said. But he can feel him already shutting down on him, like he's resisting the urge to turn up the music louder and drown him out.

"Brendan I'm sorry. About what I said before."

He thinks he's going to be ignored, but after a moment Brendan switches off the music to face him, and fuck, Ste's never seen anything more gorgeous, even in this angry state, even when his eyes are all but telling Ste that he's not worth listening to. He's all solid muscle and hairy flesh, and it's almost too much. Ste doesn't know where he'd even begin, where his lips and hands would touch first.

"You didn't say anything wrong, Steven."

It's not what Ste was expecting, and it ruins his whole speech. Now he's got nothing, and can only stand back and listen to Brendan, trying to work out where to go next.

"Who would want to be with someone like me? I'm a freak." He doesn't even try to disguise his hatred, like his words are some form of self harm, and Ste wants to tell him to stop, he can't take Brendan saying these things, feels so fucking protective and he doesn't have a clue why.

"But...I mean you didn't do anything, did you? Maybe you didn't kill your dad." He's holding onto everything now, holding onto lies and half truths, doesn't even know what's real anymore, but he can't let Brendan be guilty.

"I did it, Steven. I killed him."

No. It's not supposed to be like this. Brendan's meant to be like all the others, Warren grinning cockily at the officers, "I didn't do it, do you think I'd be sick enough to hurt my own fiancée?", Walker maintaining that he's blameless, "I was merely acting in defense of my brother, I protected him", even Ethan the fucking cop, "It wasn't like I meant to run anyone over, I didn't do it deliberately." Ste's heard every excuse under the sun, resists rolling his eyes at them, the way they all sound like a pupil telling the teacher that the dog ate their homework.

He'd give anything right now for Brendan to lie to him.

"You think I'm a monster, don't you?"

He doesn't know what he thinks.

"Do you really want to hate me, Steven? Shall I make you?" He comes up close, eyes locked with his, toes practically together, and Ste can't look away, not even if he wanted to.

"I killed him, hit him with a hammer until there was nothing but blood and bone, until I smashed his skull apart. Want to know why I did it? Because he raped me. There. You can hate me now."