It was almost ten before Gethin heard the key in the lock, and he hurried to the door to be there with welcoming arms.

'Oh, Geth-love, are you a sight for sore eyes!'

Jonathan all but fell on his neck, hugging and nestling in so fondly that Gethin's breath caught in his throat.

'Lovely to see you, are you okay? What can I get you, vodka, beer, tea?'

'Cup of tea'd be lovely. In a minute.'

Jonathan loosened his hold a little, pulling back for a kiss, and Gethin lifted into the sensation of the joining of their mouths and tongues, aware of how much he had missed this man, how much he himself had been missed.

'That's better,' Jonathan said eventually, allowing the kiss to finish but still seemingly reluctant to let Gethin get to the kettle. 'It's been a long start to the week. This new routine's going to be rubbish.'

Gethin eased away, taking Jonathan's hand and pulling him into the kitchen while he made tea.

'I thought we'd agreed we could cope with the new routine?' he said, busy with cups.

'Ah. As of this morning, the new routine is the old routine. We'll have to have a new, new routine now. Bloody director's decided it would 'showcase our talents' if all the cast learns two roles and we swap around every few nights. Which is okay, sort of, because you always know your own part and bits of the other players', especially the ones you act with and against the most. But, oh, no, more than that. He knows I've done... a range of things, so he's decided I have to be...be the other lead, too, so much for being done with that... that is, it's almost as much to learn again as what I'm doing now...'

'Other lead?'

Jonathan made a good pretence of not hearing this.

'And it means extra work, rehearsals, timetables, less free time, oh, God, it's a nightmare, Geth-love... I shouldn't have come tonight, only I'd promised you, he wanted to keep us all until ten, I wandered off when we broke for five minutes and didn't go back... and we're starting earlier mornings, too... I'm going to have to leave here nine at the latest...'

Gethin listened and nodded and made tea, carried it into the living room and waited for Jonathan to follow, still sounding off about the changes.

'...and the weekend! God, Gethin, we won't have a weekend! I have to work Fridays from now on, and rehearse on Saturday, and I won't get here until stupid o'clock again, too late to go out...'

'We'll stay in then.'

'What? Is that all you've got to say?'

'I mean, I can see it's awful for you, you look shattered, and no, there's plenty more to say, but it doesn't matter. This is your career, what you love doing...'

Jonathan interrupted with a snort.

'Yes, so tonight you're not loving it. But all the other times, I've heard you talk about it, you do love it.' Gethin shrugged. 'What's the alternative, stop acting? Then what? Kick yourself for letting the chance pass you by? What I meant was, I don't mind not going out if the alternative is staying in with you. Now, sit down and drink your tea.'

'Bossy,' Jonathan said, finally getting round to taking off his coat and dropping with a sigh onto the sofa. 'Thanks. For the tea, and... for what it's worth, I like staying in with you, too.'

'I can't imagine how hard it is, what you do,' Gethin said. 'But is he right, the director? Is it a good idea to swap the roles around like this?'

'I'm not thinking clearly, I'm too close to it... I suppose. It's a small company, one of dozens, you've got to do something to get noticed... and it shows we're versatile, that the director's not afraid to take risks... it looks good to the agents and to anyone wanting to produce a show... but the other role, it's... not one I wanted to do. That's all.'

Jonathan swigged down his tea and looked hopefully at the empty mug until Gethin grinned and got up.

'I'll make some more tea, shall I? Do you want to stay up a bit, or would you like a lie down?'

'Combination of both sounds fun. If I've got the energy. Thank you, Gethin-love.' Jonathan heaved himself to his feet and came to put his arms round Gethin for a moment. 'I'm so glad I'm here.'

Gethin leaned back against him.

'So am I. Want some biscuits with this tea?'

'Lovely.'

Lying in bed with Jonathan in his arms. Gethin felt warm, comfortable, at peace, even though his boyfriend wasn't relaxed yet, still occasionally blurting out odd, apparently unconnected phrases. It didn't matter – except that whatever it might be mattered very much to Jonathan – but to Gethin the important thing was that they were together, Jonathan was talking to him, trusted him enough to unburden to him.

'...and there's another thing! We're not getting paid overtime for the extra hours, it's all down to us how quickly we learn the lines, if we don't get the work done he says it's our own fault for not preparing properly... a decent company wouldn't do this... that rep I was with last year, they didn't behave like this...'

He sighed and rubbed his face against Gethin's shoulder. A full day's stubble rasped his skin, exfoliating roughly.

'I hoped they'd want me back, but of course they didn't... my fault really. Well, mine and Luke's. He was getting edgy that I was rehearsing all the time and he didn't like it, didn't understand what I was doing, so I invited him to rehearsals, made a holy bloody show of me, well, you've seen him in action... it's a lot of strain on a relationship, Gethin.'

'Starting to see that. And I was going to say, I'll come with you in the morning, to the theatre, keep you company, but after that story, if you didn't want me to...'

'Oh, I don't think you'd do a Luke on me, would you?'

'Only if you deserved it. No, even then, that's not my style. I'd let you know if I wasn't happy, but I wouldn't let half the world know at the same time, Jonathan.'

'Thank you. I'd like to show you my digs, the theatre. But it's a lot to ask, a long way to go and the shop...'

'Maeve's covering the morning. It'd give us chance to be together a bit, at least.'

'That'd be nice. Gethin-love...'

'Mmm?'

'This... how I've been tonight. All over the place, like that kite you're always on about. Sometimes, I... might get worse.'

He said it with an air of confessing to a terrible crime, and Gethin laughed.

'Okay, thanks for warning me! I'll bear it in mind.'

'No, but I yell and shout and lose my temper and I'm just not a very nice person... I try, I really do try not to take it out on anyone, but you can't yell at your director and it sort of builds up... I'd just hate to spoil things, Gethin, you and me... it's been lovely. And I want it to keep on being lovely, like I say, this is when things fall apart for me...'

'Hand on your kite string, that's all you need.'

Jonathan breathed out slowly, starting to relax at last.

'I don't know... I hope so, hope you're right...'

'The important thing is, you've warned me, we've talked about it. And I'm not some young kid, going to go off on one at the drop of a hat. That doesn't give you permission to be an idiot, mind.'

Jonathan laughed, settling against Gethin.

'I will try not to be an idiot, Gethin-love.'

'I'll try not to yank your string too hard, Jonathan-love.'

Jonathan settled into sleep, leaving Gethin to lie awake listening to the resonant rasp of his breath. Oddly, he felt as if he'd been entrusted with Jonathan's safety, as if he was keeping guard over him.

He thought about how vulnerable Jonathan was, really, so dependent on the approval of a director, so eager to be domestic and helpful (except tonight when he was fluttering about like a kite on acid), the touch of quiet desperation in his voice when he'd said he'd hate to spoil things... and what had that been, about playing the other lead? Wasn't there usually a leading man and a leading lady, so...?

Something clicked.

Oh.

That's why Jonathan had been a bit cagey; if the other lead was a female role, he was going to have to do drag.

No wonder he was stressed, then, having been deliberately trying not to cross-dress, and now finding he was expected to, for work... and then, how exactly would that... what was it...? showcase his talents? It didn't seem fair that he was expected to just do it, that he couldn't refuse...

Did he really not want to do it, or did he just wish he didn't have to? Was it for fear of upsetting Gethin that he was worried, or because he hadn't been ready to stop and this would be like putting down a bottle of whiskey in front of a freshly-reformed alcoholic...

Well, the only way he could possibly help Jonathan with this would be if he could really convince him drag wasn't a problem, prove it, somehow.

And that wasn't going to be easy, Jonathan already hadn't been listening...

'Gethin-love...? You asleep?'

'Not asleep, Jonathan. I thought you were.'

'Might have been. Awake now, I know what you need, a lullaby.'

'What?'

'Shh...' Jonathan began to wriggle and slide down the bed. 'Sing you to sleep.'

Presently, settled comfortably between Gethin's legs, Jonathan began to hum.

And some time after that, Gethin's voice joined Jonathan's in a brief, dissonant counterpoint... and then, finally, sleep.

The morning brought gritty eyes and the sense of not enough sleep, rain on the windows, and a hand exploring beneath the covers, a mouth mumbling at the skin beneath his ear.

'Good morning, Jonathan.'

'Morning, Gethin-love. It's just gone seven, have we got time...?'

'Not likely to say no with you doing that, am I?' He rolled over, pulling Jonathan into his arms. 'Come on, then, what do you want?'

Jonathan grinned.

'Everything,' he said. 'Or at least as much as we can fit in, so to speak, before we have to leave.'

'Morning, Gethin,' Maeve said as he let her in at quarter to nine. 'You look... rushed?'

He grinned. 'Jonathan's got to leave in a few minutes, early rehearsals, but I'm going with him to the theatre. So, yes, rushed. I've not managed to get to the restocking yet, but everything else is done... I think... your float's in the cash register, I expect I'll be back around eleven or so.' He set a cup down next to the till. 'And Jonathan made you a cup of tea.'

'Oh, bless him say thanks for me, will you?' she said, hanging up her coat. 'See you later.'

It rained as they walked to the tube, not holding hands, not in the busy morning with rush hour crowds around, but walking close to each other, talking, being silent, sitting together, the crush of people meaning they had to squeeze up close, thighs and shoulders touching. Jonathan turned and smiled his fond smile, and Gethin nodded and grinned, remembering the journey home from the book fair when they'd wished the train fuller, just so they could squash together as they were now.

The journey involved a change of line, a route march from one platform to another, a broken escalator and then a fifteen minute walk in the rain. At a corner of a tired semi-residential street, Jonathan halted.

'Straight ahead to the theatre, down there and round the corner. Left to the digs. We've got a few minutes, want to see my rooms?'

'Yes, okay.'

It was still raining as Jonathan led him up the steps of a tall Victorian terrace now badly converted into too many flats.

'I'm on the ground floor, handy for the phone.' Jonathan waved at the public payphone inside the doorway. 'At the back here, it's not too bad.'

It was small, overfull, the furniture old and tired, a single bed in an alcove with a curtain across.

'Cosy,' Gethin said. 'It's a long way for you to come to the flat, though.'

'Worth it, though. So, no time for anything... besides, single bed, kills the mood a bit.'

'Oh, I don't know, huddle together, you know. Intimate.'

'Ha, intimate!' He picked up a small bag from on top of an overpopulated shelf. 'I got you this Monday, forgot to pick it up to bring yesterday... nothing much.'

'Thank you, it's kind.'

'You don't know what it is yet.'

'You, thinking of me when you probably should be thinking about your lines or something, that's what it is...' He looked inside the bag, grinned. 'Eye-shadow. Green. Thank you. I'll wear it for you, next time we go out.'

Jonathan smiled, offered his cheek for a kiss, and swapped one bag for another.

'I have to go, Gethin-love, come with me if you like? Or just to the corner, whatever...'

Feet on the stairs as Jonathan was locking up, someone pausing to speak.

'Going my way, Gloria dear?'

Gethin saw Jonathan freeze, suddenly bowed under the appellation. The voice continued.

'You were missed last night, where did you get to? Practicing your new part as leading lady? I... Oh, hello! Didn't realised you had company, sorry. Well, that explains it, although we were sent to hammer on your door, we were convinced you weren't home...'

Jonathan looked round, locked his eyes on Gethin's face, a mixture of pleading and horror there. Gethin smiled and reached out to stroke his arm before stepping out of the shadows.

Somehow, Jonathan found his voice.

'Trevor, yes, so... Gethin, this is Trev, he's one of our best supporting actors... this is Gethin. My boyfriend.'

'Oh...'

'Hello. And, just so you know, I wasn't here last night, if that's what you're thinking...'

'Geth...'

'...we were at mine. I live above "Gay's the Word" bookshop, you should come along, we've got some interesting stock.' And, since Jonathan had said 'boyfriend', he had no qualms about linking arms as he nodded to Trevor. 'How's this new double-role thing working for you, then?'

'Not so bad, my second part's a bit more comedic... you know, I think I'll give Carlos a knock, walk along with him, three's a crowd, and all that...'

'We'll get off, then,' Jonathan said, recovering. 'See you at the theatre.'

Outside, the rain had stopped, the pavements wet and glistening. Gethin waited for Jonathan to say something, but it didn't happen; he just dropped Gethin's arm and took his hand instead.

They reached the corner and paused, Jonathan, finally, breaking the silence, his voice heavy.

'Station's that way. It's been fun, Gethin-love.'

What?

'Don't you want me to come to the theatre?'

'Not if you don't want to, after what Trevor said...'

'I wasn't aware he'd said anything.'

Jonathan looked as if he was going to speak, but Gethin shook his head and kept talking.

'It's an honour, if you think about it, you read for a smaller part, they gave you the lead anyway and now you get to be both the stars? I think I'd already worked out your other character would be female, even before I heard the name Gloria...but seems like we're back to the drag thing again...'

'The drag thing. Yes.'

'I keep telling you, it's fine.'

'Trev, he won't have thought, he's not like that, not bitchy like some of them. So it's okay? We're okay?'

'We're fine. Now, Maeve's expecting me back for...'

'If you need to go...'

'Will you just listen? Or are you trying to get rid of me? No? Right. Good. Maeve's expecting me back for twelve, but I don't start until one, so if I can ring her from the theatre, I can stay a couple of hours. If you like. If the director won't throw me out.'

'I'd like that.'

They set off again, holding hands bravely all the way to the theatre, a tatty, battered former church hall. Outside, Jonathan paused.

'Thing is,' he said. 'I'm reading Gloria this morning for the first time, and... well, I wanted to tell you, tried... just shied away from it. Only it's just like the act, it's work, Gethin, honest, I can keep it at the theatre... but I don't know how to get a handle on it...'

'My Aunty Dilys,' Gethin said. 'Always fancied herself treading the boards. Bring her to it, if it helps.'

Jonathan stared, grinned suddenly, and kissed Gethin's forehead, a benediction.

'Bless you!' he said. 'Aunty Dilys, life and soul of the party... Come on in, then. Oh, and it's not a dress rehearsal, you don't need to worry...'

'I'm not worried, cariad! Now, come on, your friend Trev's just up the road and he's staring.'

Gethin rang Maeve to tell her he'd be later than expected so he could stay until after the mid-session break when everyone gathered around a tea urn and drank substandard tea and coffee. Jonathan gravitated to his side, but if Gethin had hoped to be able to talk to him, he was disappointed. Between cast members commenting on Jonathan's performance, and people asking him about himself, he hardly had time to do more than glance at his boyfriend. But Jonathan's eyes were easy again, his smile relaxed, and Gethin chatted and promoted the shop, and was generally on his best behaviour until tea break ended.

'I'd better be going. You were great, you know, you're going to be amazing. I loved that bit where you did both parts, one after another...'

'Thank you; it's early days yet, with Gloria,' Jonathan said. 'But Aunty Dilys is helping. Let me walk you out.'

A small, private moment in the vestibule, nobody to see them kissing, hugging.

'See you Saturday,' Jonathan said. 'And I'll ring you later, okay?'

'Okay.'

Back at the shop for half twelve, Maeve looking up and smiling.

'Everything okay?' he asked.

'Yes, no problems. Your friend Peter was in, just to say hi, and something about the flowers worked a treat?'

'Good, that's good.'

'And Brights Press called, something about would you like to stock their books, number's on the pad. I said you were in meetings most of the day.'

'You're a star, Maeve. Mind if I get my lunch?'

Upstairs, he made a quick sandwich that he didn't really want, and wandered into the spare room. Mostly empty now, of course, evidence of Jonathan reduced to one or two bags. He opened the wardrobe, expecting to see some dresses there, the elaborate drag costumes, maybe, but the wardrobe was empty.

Except...

As he went to shut the door, something in the shadowed recesses caught his eye. There, at the back, as if it had been rolled up and stuffed away out of sight in shame, was the blue-green dress Jonathan had helped him try on, the one that had sent him into a full-blown freak-out.

Gethin took it out, shook it, held it up. He remembered the feel of the fabric against his skin, how odd it had felt. Not uncomfortable, not scary, at the time. Just... different.

Folding it up loosely, he put it down on the zedbed and thought about Jonathan on the corner, expecting him to want to walk away just because he'd found out about Gloria.

Jonathan obviously still thought it mattered more to Gethin than it did, in spite of all his assurances...

Or was that it? Or did it matter more to Jonathan than Jonathan realised, had the short spell of not-cross-dressing made him realise it wasn't a phase, he wasn't over it, hadn't expressed himself enough in that guise?

Did that matter?

'Of course it doesn't bloody matter, Jonathan!' he muttered. 'How to get you to bloody see that, though?'

And as soon as he'd said it, he realised, and he stared at the dress, stared at is as if it was the biggest challenge he had ever faced, and then left the room, shutting the door on the dress and all it might mean.

He wasn't sure he was ready for the answer yet.