Gethin sat on the end of the bed watching Jonathan at his dressing table getting ready for going out. He seemed to have a ritual where he stroked the surface of the table, patted it, lined up everything neatly... and then fell on the cosmetics with abandoned exuberance until he'd made a selection. As part of his routine, he discovered a small drawstring pouch resting behind a jewellery box at the back.

He paused, and then lifted the bag, dangling it by its cord and smiling at Gethin.

'What's this?'

'Oh.' Gethin grinned sheepishly. 'I got one or two bits in a sale... didn't know what I was looking for, only the 'not-tested-on-animals' seemed important... I just... practice, you know. Alone. After the shop's closed.'

'Let me see... "Silver Fern", "Bright Buttercup"... and a purple mascara? Very dramatic... what do you do, show me?'

'Um... mess around?'

But Jonathan had risen from the stool and now gestured Gethin towards it. His eyes were eager as he sat on the bed behind Gethin, his legs either side of the stool, framing him, touching his thighs.

Suddenly self-conscious, Gethin hesitated.

In the mirror, Jonathan smiled encouragement.

'I used to mess around as a kid, the mother's lipstick, you'd think she would have realised what I was going to be when I grew up, at the age of seven I could out-make-up any girl in the street... bless, she thought it was because I wanted a sister at first, then that I was going to be an actor... Geth-love, it's about self-expression, there's no right or wrong...'

'Okay.'

'Okay.'

Gethin spread bright yellow eyeshadow on his lower lids. He followed with a narrow line of shimmering "Silver Fern" just at the base of the yellow, then used the mascara – more of a magenta, he thought, than purple, on his lashes. His hand didn't shake, he didn't poke himself in the eye or smear cosmetics on unintended bits of his face, so that must count as a success... but what he'd thought of, in his previous practice runs, as startling, but effective, now looked clownish, over bright, a garish combination.

'But that looks stunning! Really brings out your eyes... have you got any other colours?'

Gethin shook his head.

'Only got them because they were on special,' he muttered.

'Pity. Because if you had a bronze green, or a fern green, you could add that to your upper lids and it would really complete the look. Gorgeous, though... and watching you was so... mmm...'

Jonathan pulled close against Gethin's back, bringing his mouth close to his ear.

'Can you feel it, what watching you has done to me? I'm dying for you, desperate... do we have to go out yet?'

Gethin swallowed. He could, indeed, feel Jonathan's response hard against him, could see the desire in his boyfriend's eyes, was acutely aware of the uncoiling of lust in his own groin. He swallowed, moistened his lips, felt Jonathan's heated breath on his neck.

'We don't want to go out too early, do we?' he said. 'Pubs are full of kids before nine anyway. I reckon we could spare an hour.'

It was rather more than an hour later before Jonathan was ready to do his own make-up, breaking into a grin from time to time as he caught Gethin's eye in the mirror.

'Now, watch yourself, watching me, if it has the same effect on you as it did me, we'll never get out...'

'I think I can probably last a little while. Very thorough, you were. What are you wearing this evening?'

The last was said casually, but Jonathan paused before answering.

'I feel like a green shirt tonight. Blue jeans.'

'Oh. Okay. Because if you wanted...'

With a somewhat exaggerated sigh, Jonathan twisted round to give Gethin a stern look.

'You're about to mention dresses again, aren't you? It was just a phase, I'm not bothered now. Okay, Luke didn't like it, so maybe I wore them more often than I would have, just to show him I could. Self-expression, Gethin-love, I've expressed that part of my personality quite enough for a little while, okay? If I want to wear a dress, I will, don't think I'm not wearing one because I'm not wearing one, I'm just not wearing one and shall continue to not wear one and wear what the hell I like whatever that might be. Okay?'

It was said gently, nothing that could sound like impatience or annoyance, and ended with a wink and a smile, so Gethin nodded, and shrugged.

'Um. You look great in green,' he said. 'As long as you know I know you can wear what the hell you want, that's fine.'

Jonathan stared for a moment, shook his head, and then snorted a laugh.

'Oh, God, Gethin, what did I sound like? Sorry, it's just... the time you got upset... I didn't like to see you like that...'

'Well, it wasn't your fault. So, are we going dancing or what?'

'I don't think I've got the energy for 'or what' just now. Dancing, I think.'

So they moved past the topic of Jonathan-not-in-a-dress, had a fantastic night both on the dance floor and off it, but Gethin wasn't quite easy. In the odd moments between dancing and drinking when his mind could wander, he found he couldn't quite shake the feeling that not all was well... He wasn't quite certain Jonathan had really meant what he'd said; not about Gethin's panic attack, God, no, he'd been so concerned at the time, after, but about his own sartorial habits... Jonathan had loved dressing up so much, had been so keen to share, looked so bloody comfortable in a frock, he couldn't just shrug it off as a phase, could he?

So was he doing it to be considerate and kind, or was he just terrified Gethin would freak out on him again? And wouldn't it bother him, really, after a while?

But Jonathan downed the last of his pint and gave that closed-mouth happy smile, giving Gethin's shoulder a little squeeze.

'Go home, then?' he said. 'I know it's not late yet, but easier to get a cab this time of night, after the pubs shut, before the clubs throw out.'

Home. The flat was still home, then?

'Yes,' Gethin said. 'Home's a good idea.'

Home and off with the make-up, couple of bottles of beer, off with the clothes, bed and cuddling and sleep with Sunday ahead and everything perfect with only the ghost of Monday somewhere ahead, and who would have thought that such a wonderful, blissful peace would be so fragile?

It wasn't that the odd sense of disconnection was returning, a slight distancing, in spite of all the affection and the sex and the fondness, Jonathan preparing to withdraw and plunge back into Actor Mode, though that was there, but Gethin understood, he thought, didn't think of itself anything to worry about.

It wasn't even the fact that Jonathan had to go back to his digs Sunday evening, rather than Monday morning that turned the mood into something fraught and vulnerable; it was something much simpler, a casual, small remark that Jonathan wouldn't, couldn't have realised would have such a powerful impact.

Evening had arrived bringing dark outside the windows of the flat, time for Jonathan to gather his bits and pieces together after a wonderful day of easily-banished hangovers, lazy love-making, a proper dinner and an afternoon of cuddling and bad television, and Gethin was watching Jonathan tidy away his make-up into the right drawers while trying not to mind the sense of disassociation that was growing again between them.

'I'd say feel free to put your things in here, too, but it's hardly going to be worth it,' Jonathan said. 'The mother's almost agreed to give it house space, I'll talk her round soon enough, I know you'll be glad to get rid of it, taking up half the bedroom.'

What? No, he couldn't...! The only way Gethin had been able to sleep lately was knowing the dressing table, and Jonathan's soul, was here with him, still...

'There's no need,' Gethin mumbled, too stunned to respond, to find decent arguments against the idea.

'Well, have to organise the minibus again of course... it's good of you not to have minded it being here, Gethin.' Jonathan sighed, picked up his bag, and headed for the stairs. 'Don't want to go, it's been a wonderful weekend, just what the doctor ordered... I'll ring when I get in, shall I? Three rings and hang up, then you know it's me and you can phone me back if you like. No pips interrupting that way.'

'Yes, okay.'

And although Gethin clung as they kissed and hugged goodbye, Jonathan didn't seem to realise it was anything more than how he was hugging and kissing, and clinging back.

The week began to pass. When Maeve came in for her Wednesday hours, in a quiet moment, she cornered Gethin by the back room door.

'Okay, I don't want to be nosey, but it's Wednesday and you're still wearing your Monday Morning Face of Gloom. What's up?'

Gethin sighed and shook his head. Reserved as he was, it would be nice to have someone to confide in...

'Jonathan's new rehearsal schedule, it's a nightmare.'

'Oh, dear! I thought you hadn't mentioned him being round as much.'

'And he's meant to be staying over tonight, but he's not said when he'll be able to get away...'

'You still want me to do tomorrow morning for you, though?'

'Yes, of course. He's still coming.'

Maeve raised an eyebrow. 'You said that a bit quick!'

'Well, he will. Just I don't know what time, exactly and... sometimes...'

Maeve turned the door sign to 'Closed', stuck the 'Back in Ten Minutes' card on the glass and put the back room kettle on.

'Sometimes...?' she said once she'd set coffee down on the table.

'Sometimes it feels as if he isn't here. Work, it's hard for him to shift out of his role, I think. But it's okay, it's...'

Jonathan had said he loved him, sort of. Called the flat 'home'. He'd taken over things too, cooking, washing up, things he didn't have to do, because he wanted to. Almost like he was showing how domesticated he was, how useful. And that wasn't like pulling away, was it?

'Gethin...' Maeve laid her hand on his wrist for a brief moment. 'If it's okay, you don't need to worry then, do you? Unless there's something else?'

'There... there might be.' Suddenly, desperately, he needed to talk, to share some of the fear, to hear it out loud and maybe realise it wasn't as scary as he thought. But he couldn't say everything, not to Maeve, straight, nice, trying-so-hard Maeve... 'I think it's me... not... he thinks I don't want him doing something he likes, or he thinks if he does it'll upset me, annoy me or something...'

Maeve sat up straight and took a breath.

'Gethin...' she began slowly. 'I don't know what you might be talking about, I don't know enough about your... your lifestyle to be able to guess and it's none of my business anyway, but, just tell me... it's not... not something dangerous, is it? Nothing that might hurt you? Either of you?'

'What? God, no!'

'...because Jonathan seems really nice, and lovely, but sometimes people can be deceptive...'

She broke off, having just registered what Gethin was saying, seeing the shock and horror on his face.

'Oh. Okay, sorry,' she said quickly. 'I just... well, we were all taken in by Ivan the Creepy, weren't we?'

Gethin nodded. 'I suppose we were. But no, nothing like that. Nothing I mind, nothing dangerous or uncomfortable, or even silly, just... he's got the wrong idea about how I feel about it, that's all, and he won't bloody listen...'

'Well, that's men for you, isn't it?' she said, laughing. 'Gay or straight, it doesn't seem to make any difference... you could show him I suppose, if you think it matters to him. If there's a way to do that.'

'He says it was just a phase, that he's over it,' Gethin said. 'So how can I, without it looking like I don't believe him?'

'You'll find a way,' Maeve said, as the noise of someone rattling the shop door intruded on the conversation. 'But it tells you something, doesn't it?'

'What?'

'That you're more than 'just a phase' where he's concerned. Otherwise, it'd just be like giving something up for Lent. You go to your break now, I'll sort this.'

He nodded and went through to the stairs, letting himself into the flat with quiet relief. Talking had helped, he thought, and what if Maeve was right? What if he was more than just a phase to Jonathan?

Gethin found himself smiling. Actually, he wouldn't mind that at all.