Gethin carried the rest of the tea things back upstairs, packed the remaining scones into a plastic box with a tight-fitting lid and put the mugs to wash. Jonathan was nowhere about, the promised tea not made or prepared for.

'Did you want some tea, or not?' he called up the stairs.

'Not, thank you. You coming up?'

'All right.'

Jonathan was seated at his dressing table, reapplying the pale pink lipstick he'd decided was appropriate for Sunday hospital visiting, and Gethin watched as the reflection stretched Jonathan's mouth to get the perfect line, pressed his lips together and pouted to finish the act.

'Just a bit of a touch-up. All done. You know, I was thinking, not a lot of room with the dressing table here...'

Gethin smiled and sat down on the bed next to Jonathan on his inadequate boudoir stool.

'You noticed, did you?'

'Yes, I was wondering, could we move the bed over, do you think? Just a bit? I love this dressing table, it goes everywhere with me... you know how I said my briefcase has my life in it? Well, this little bundle of teak, I think it has my soul inside.'

'We can move things round a bit, shove that chair across, move the bed nearer the other wall. It won't look as balanced, but...'

'Oh, you don't want too much symmetry, not in a bedroom, 'Jonathan said. 'You need flow, and interesting arrangements of objects so the energy can slow down and pool around a bit, nice and calm... come on, then, is there anything we need to move out of the way first? What about that chest of drawers, put that here, move the dressing table down a bit so you can get to the window, then move the chair up and bring that little table over to the bedside, what do you think, Gethin?'

Well, certainly not that he'd be rearranging his bedroom on a Sunday afternoon with a beautifully made-up man in a dress acting as Mr Shifter, that was for sure... Still, it wouldn't hurt after all, and if it made Jonathan feel more at home...

'Come on, then. Let's get started.'

By the time they were done, it was getting dark outside, and Jonathan shut the curtains and switched on the lights.

'Gethin... seeing as I've got you here...?'

'Yes?' Gethin felt breathless, suddenly, Jonathan's eyes on him, appraising, measuring... 'Yes, Jonathan?'

'How would you feel about a little make-over? Just a bit? See what you think?'

Then Jonathan was behind him, at his shoulder, easing him down onto the boudoir stool in front of the dressing table, looking with him into the broad mirror, his arm around him enfolding, gentle, the warmth of him seeping through Gethin's shirt.

He swallowed. Last night, he'd as good as agreed to this, only saying maybe not to go out to start with, maybe at home. But what was the harm?

'Can I?' Jonathan asked softly. 'Can I show you how it feels? It washes off really easily if you don't like it, I...'

'Yes, all right.'

'Really?'

Gethin's reflection nodded and he realised he must have done, too. But Jonathan looked as if he'd never been happier; he bounced up from Gethin's side and fell on the drawers of his dressing table, selecting boxes and tubes and cases as if he'd had this all worked out in his head and had only been waiting for a chance...

'Bloody whirlwind, you,' Gethin muttered. 'No, a kite, that's it, all over the place!'

Jonathan laughed, delighted.

'Well, I've been called a few things in my time...!'

'Maeve said it first, about how you wandered round the shop one day. But I think she's right. You're just everywhere, all at once. Like a mad kite with an elastic string on a blustery day.'

'Ha...! I think I know what you mean. Right, let's have a look...'

'Foundation first, is it? Did I remember right?'

'Yes, but, Geth-love, you don't need foundation... in fact...' Jonathan dashed into the guest room, returning with one of his multihued scarves, which he draped across the reflective surface. 'You don't need to look in the mirror either, get comfy in a proper chair, just sit back and I'll do all the work...'

So Gethin closed his eyes and tried to relax as various brushes and applicators were patted and smoothed and dabbed and drifted across his face, Jonathan keeping up a running commentary all the while, his breathing a soft counterpoint to his voice, his breath a drift of intermittent warmth... and really, there was something about it, knowing Jonathan was completely and utterly intent on him, just him, looking and looking at him and applying his paints and powders with deliberate, careful focus...

'...gorgeous eyebrows, so dramatic... now, I'm just going to stretch the corner of your eyelid out, hold still... yes, that's fine... you know, I can see you're really gripping the arms of the chair here, just relax, not going to hurt you... right, okay, tricky bit now, the mascara... are you up for a bit of mascara?'

'Yes, okay.'

'Right, so I'm just going to hold the brush steady, you look beyond it, look at me...keep looking... lovely... and blink for me? Perfect, couple more times... that's it... God, your lashes... other eye now... beautiful... Lip gloss coming up, and then you're done...'

'Wait.' Gethin lifted a hand.

'Okay, don't panic... It's just a bit of lip gloss, Gethin, slightly tinted, nothing extreme, I promise,' Jonathan said quickly. 'Really, I've been very restrained... if you don't want it, that's fine. It can wipe off straight away, I'd just like to see...'

'No, just you said... kiss before the lipstick goes on...'

'Ah. Well, that's all right, then. A kiss before the lip gloss goes on...'

Gethin felt Jonathan's hands cradling his head gently as he lifted his face for the kiss. It was lingering, but somehow too brief.

'God, you're gorgeous,' Jonathan said softly into his mouth. 'Not that you weren't already... that is, you are, always, you're...'

'Jonathan? Shut up and find the lip gloss.'

'Okay. Shutting up, finding lip gloss... just open your mouth a little, oh God, you are just... no, don't smile yet... hold still... there. Done.' He took Gethin's hands and pulled him to his feet. 'I thought about what you said, about my make-up making me look just like more me... and that's what I've tried to do for you, Gethin. Nothing over-the-top, nothing outrageous... and it takes a bloody lot of work to be subtle... Come and look.'

Jonathan led him to the little stool and sat him down at it, then pulled the scarf off the mirror with a flourish.

Gethin stared in silence, aware that Jonathan was fidgeting, aware that he needed to say something, anything. But he couldn't, somehow, find the words. He was transformed, but, as Jonathan had said, he was still the same. He was just... Gethin on a very good day, Gethin when everything had gone to plan, when work wasn't stressing him, and he'd slept enough, and he was at peace with the world. He looked like he felt inside, when Jonathan was in his arms.

'Well?' Jonathan asked, unable to bear the silence any more.

'You're amazing, Jonathan.'

'Never mind me, God, am I really saying that? What about you?'

'It's probably different for you, being an actor... I don't usually look at myself much in the mirror... so... well, surprised, yes. See what you mean about eyeliner, though. Eyeshadow works... can hardly see it, though, how mad is that? Eyelashes... not sure, mascara felt odd going on...'

'You get used to it.'

'You've made me look so different, but... not... only thing,' he added, as Jonathan began to grin and preen. 'The lip gloss, though, it doesn't seem appropriate...' And even before he'd said it, even though he had a pretty good idea of what would follow, although he knew he could stop, he added, 'not dressed like this, at least.'

...Duw, what had he just suggested...?

'Gethin...?' Jonathan sat on the bed behind him, slid a hand round his back to rest on his hip. 'Downstairs... I thought that was just you showing your support for me. Which was wonderfully sweet of you... are you saying you meant it?'

'I said, I might,' Gethin whispered. 'And I don't know, if I don't... it's fine for you to, you know that, I just don't know about me, so if you want, I don't mind seeing, but I don't want to upset you, if...'

'It's okay. This was about the make-up, really... you're okay with that?'

'Yes. Seems like a lot of work, but I think so.' Gethin tilted his head. 'It's... yeah. Not every day, but sometimes. I... like that you did it for me, that you wanted to.'

'And I love that you let me. So, if you're feeling brave, I have a lovely little wraparound, infinitely adjustable, gorgeous sort of dark blue...?'

To his astonishment, Gethin saw his reflection give an almost-imperceptible nod.

'All right.'

Jonathan grinned and hugged him, kissing his cheek.

'You are just full of surprises, Gethin Roberts! Come on, then!'

His hands were grasped and he was pulled to his feet, found himself following Jonathan into the guest room where he sat on the edge of the folding bed and wondered what he'd let himself in for. It would be all right, it was just a bit of fabric. After all, he wore a dressing gown that wrapped around, that wasn't so much different from a wraparound dress, was it? And Jonathan was really throwing himself into the task, as if he needed it to work... perhaps, just reassurance after Luke's unkindness, Ivan's contempt.

Or was it something else, was Jonathan looking for a kindred spirit? Did it... did it mean he already mattered to Jonathan, that this mattered, too?

He began to undress ready, shoes and socks, shirt and jeans, so that when Jonathan found the item he was looking for, and turned with it held against his body and a hopeful enquiry in his eyes, he grinned.

'Wow. You don't need clothes, you know. You don't need anything. Here, it's just like a great big, long shirt, only it ties, no buttons to worry about, so put your arms in here... that's it...'

Just like a long shirt, that's all. No problem. And really, why should there be?

Only that it seemed to matter so much to Jonathan.

And Jonathan, somehow, mattered so much to Gethin that this had to be right.

Jonathan kited around, smoothing the collar, raising Gethin's arms so he could sort out the sleeves – long sleeves, all the way to the wrist – fold over the fabric and tie it, make adjustments and adaptations at the back...

'There.'

He stood back, finally, Gethin hot under his gaze and it was okay, really, it was fine. He took a few steps – just walking, in a dress, no different from walking wrapped in a dressing gown, or a towel after a bath, except the fabric brushing against his thighs was softer, more flowing, and he was very, very aware of it, and there was nothing digging into his waist, no belt from jeans, no uncomfortable seams anywhere.

It was all right.

Jonathan was looking at him with a mixture of pride and wonder.

'Well?' Gethin asked. 'Will I do, do you think?'

'Oh, I think you will do very well indeed, Gethin Roberts... Wow. That's... well, it's a bit big on you, of course, we're differently framed, but the colour is stunning... you're just... I'm gobsmacked, Geth, that you'd let me do this, make you up and everything, and even if it's only now and again...' Jonathan shook his head. 'Anyway, the important thing is how you feel. Is it okay?'

'I think so. Feels fine, bit loose, like you say, you're bigger than me. Yes. Not what I thought, but...'

'You'll want to see, of course. Close your eyes,' he said, and Gethin nodded, allowing Jonathan to steer him by the shoulders. 'Now, I'm standing you in front of the wardrobe, just hold on while I open the door and get the mirror right... let's move you back a little to get the full impact... that's it. Okay, when you're ready... look at yourself.'

Gethin looked, but he didn't see himself standing there, reflected.

Instead...

No. Oh, Duw, no...

His chest felt tight, too tight to breathe, and this great sense of sweeping dread swamped him. He couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't do anything except stare, and not breathe, and...

Jonathan's hands left his shoulders, he was going to fall, and he didn't know where he'd end up if he did, and...

The wardrobe door closed with a snap, taking the nightmare reflection with it, and Jonathan was supporting him, untying the dress, holding Gethin up while he shook and trembled and finally started to breathe again, great, gasping breaths that sounded like sobs as he buried his face in Jonathan's neck, the dress falling to the ground, strong arms around him, soft, soothing words not penetrating, just the sound a comfort as he was led into the bedroom and helped into bed, Jonathan warm against his back just a moment or two later as he shook and shuddered and tried not to cry and wondered what the fuck had just happened...

And, worse, would Jonathan hate him for it?

'You know, that wasn't such a good colour on you after all,' Jonathan said softly, cuddling up. 'It was cold in there, wasn't it? You need to warm up a bit, is that better? Gethin-love?'

'Um... cold, yes...' Gethin accepted the idea gratefully. 'God, Jonathan, I'm sorry, I'm such an idiot, I...'

'Shush. Don't worry about it. You tried. It's not your thing, that's okay, it wouldn't be right if we all liked the same things, would it? I didn't want to upset you, though, you should have said, I was just... bull in a china shop, wasn't I? My fault, Geth-love.'

'No, it... sorry, so sorry...'

'Never mind. Do you want to take that make-up off, then?'

Gethin shook his head into the pillow.

'No, I like the make-up.'

His voice was a whisper, and Jonathan began to softly stroke his hair. The silence stretched out, too heavy, too long, and finally, soothed by the touch of gentle hands, Gethin stopped shaking, his breath came more freely and he sighed.

'Jonathan, I'm sorry,' he said, glad to hear he sounded stronger, normal, or nearly. 'I was fine until I saw... I don't know what happened, I felt as if I'd been punched... Just... keep me away from mirrors if I'm in a dress, I'll be fine...'

'You are a sweetheart, aren't you?' Jonathan said. 'After that... what, panic attack? And you can still joke about it.'

'Panic attack, yes, I suppose... I dunno, just shock, maybe... can we forget about it? Can we go back to, I might, one day, and it's fine for you, I love you in a dress, out of a dress is good, anything works...? Can we?'

'Of course we can,' Jonathan said. 'Do you feel better? Can I kiss you? Or would you rather kiss me?'

'As long as kissing happens, I don't care.'