A lot of people are asking for more Stendan, so here's a quick breakdown:

There's some Stendan interaction at the beginning of this chapter and important Stendan interaction at beginning of the next chapter. It'll be pure, unadulterated Stendan in chapter 12 (called Barcelona).

For those of you who would prefer to skim-read the non-Stendan build up (and I totally understand, this is supposed to be Stendan fanfiction after all), you can message me for a quick summary of the next few chaps and I'll hopefully see you again in Barecelona. ;)

For the others, we continue….

'I need one of yous to take Douglass into town tonight,' Brendan said over dinner. It was particularly noisy around Central Square tonight and he found himself shouting around the crap Yellow Zone were attempting to call dinner.

'Are we sure it's a good idea to keep taking Doug to O'Shaughnessy?' Walker asked, standing his fork upright in the solid blob of gunk masquerading as rice. It didn't move.

'It's not a bad thing to make O'Shaughnessy think we're all on good terms,' Warren chipped in. 'When are Blue Zone cooking again?'

'Five days,' Brendan groaned, pushing his own plate away. He and Macca could order pizza later. 'Five days of meals that taste of nothing and look like vomit.'

Macca laughed and nuzzled his head into Brendan's arm. They were on good terms again now, though Brendan wasn't sure what had brought about Macca's change of mood. Not that he was complaining.

'They'd cook everyday if I was in charge,' Warren muttered bitterly. 'Give us a reason to keep them around.'

'We'll you're not in charge,' Macca spat. He was so defensive of Brendan's position at The Estate, but if Brendan wasn't king then Macca would be nothing.

'Exactly,' Brendan agreed, as though anyone needed reminding. 'And stop changing the subject,' he warned, looking up and catching Steven's eye. He gestured the boy over. 'One of you needs to drive Douglass into town.' He found himself nodding towards Steven as the clueless idiot pointed to himself mouthing: "me?"

'What time?' Walker asked, putting his cutlery down noisily. His attempt at swallowing the rice was clearly over.

'When the girls arrive,' Brendan shrugged.

'But we've only got one car,' was Walker's response.

'And that's being used when the girls arrive,' Warren protested. Working together, like Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee.

'We'll use Anne's car,' he said. That wouldn't be a problem and if it was a problem, he wouldn't care. 'Oh, and Warren, Anne's asked me to tell you to stop.'

'Stop what?'

'Everything,' and noticing Warren's blank expression, he added: 'She's not interested in over-weight Mancs with a hair loss problem.'

Walker chuckled. Macca laughed like he'd never heard anything as funny, which made everything significantly less funny.

'Nah,' Warren shot back angrily. 'She prefers hanging out with poofs.'

'That still isn't going to work out well for you,' Walker pointed out with a cool smile. 'Unless there's something you want to tell us.'

'Do you two want to keep your teeth?' Warren demanded, eyes shining wildly as he attempted to threaten the men sat either side of them. 'Eh? Eh?'

But his threats were being ignored and that seemed to wind him up more than if he'd just been punched in the face.

'Ah,' Brendan smiled, as Steven approached the table, anxiously fiddling with the zip on his hoody. 'Here's someone who can give us an answer.'

'Answer to what?' Steven asked, and Brendan couldn't help notice that the lad wasn't even half glancing at him, apparently the table was very interesting to young Steven.

'We're discussing whether or not Warren here is into men,' Walker smiled.

'How should I know?' Steven asked. He looked confused, though Brendan suspected it didn't take too much to confuse the lad.

'Are you saying I look gay!' Warren demanded.

'Nah,' Steven shook his head. He seemed terrified now. So many emotions, so quickly, it was probably frying Steven's limited brain cells. 'I'm saying, how could anyone tell about anyone? You just never know who's gay, do you? Look at Brendan.'

Brendan found himself smirking at that, but his game wasn't over yet.

'Warren would know though. If he was gay, Warren would know,' Brendan continued. 'So I guess we have to take his word that he's not gay, right?'

'I guess,' Steven just nodded. He was still very, interested in the table.

'I mean, you'd know,' Brendan pressed, tilting his head a little. He was probing for a reaction, pushing for that redness in Steven's cheeks that made him look younger and more innocent somehow. 'You'd know if you were gay, wouldn't you Steven?'

'Yeah, 'course. I'm not though, me.' He explained carefully addressing each member of the table. 'I'm proper into girls. Love 'em.'

'What's the phrase,' Walker mused. 'The boy doth protest too much.'

Brendan chuckled and asked: 'Just who are you trying to convince, Steven?'

He couldn't help himself. It was fun watching the lad squirm. It reminded him of burning ants with a magnifying glass when he was kid during the two days of Irish summer they had a year.

'No one,' the boy blushed, his face screwing up like he'd been punched in the gut. 'Just saying, aren't I? And,' he turned his attention to Warren, 'just for the record, like, I don't think you are gay.'

'I could say the same about you,' Warren replied, but the boy needn't have looked so pleased because Warren was just setting for Walker to spike home with:

'But he'd be lying.'

Steven either didn't hear or had chosen to ignore the second comment. He just fidgeted, uncomfortably shuffling from foot to foot. He'd be aware that almost every person at the Central Square, over five hundred pairs of eyes, were focused right on him. But wasn't that what Steven had asked for that night when he was drunk? Hadn't he wanted to feel special? Well, he was special right now. He was the most famous person in the place, but he didn't seem to be enjoying the new-found attention.

'Is that all?' he mumbled eventually.

'No, this is.' Brendan held up his disgusting plate of gloop. 'You can cook, right?'

'Bit.'

'Go and turn this into something edible.'

'And how am I supposed to do that, eh?'

'Be creative,' Brendan whispered, pushing the plate into the boy's scrawny chest. 'Now scram, and be quick.' Steven nodded silently and rushed off back to his table. Brendan had no idea what the lad was likely to bring back. Whatever it was, it would definitely be an improvement.

He could feel Macca's scowl, sense the pout long before Walker cleared his throat which was his code for "your boyfriend's about to throw a hissy fit". Brendan usually disappeared before major hissy fits, but at dinner time, he was kind of stuck.

'What?' Brendan sighed. He didn't bother to look at Macca. He could imagine how he'd look and it wouldn't be even remotely attractive.

'You like him,' was the predictable, whiney response.

'That,' Brendan pointed towards Steven. He was leaning over Brendan's plate of food and seemed to be drowning the gloop in a mix of ketchup, brown sauce and seasoning. 'You don't have to worry about that, Macca.' He smirked, as Steven began to walk back towards him with the plate. 'I just like pulling the strings and watch him dance.' And when Steven stepped back onto the platform with the plate of flavoured mush, Brendan proved his point by calling:

'Fetch. Good boy.'

Mitzeee had text. Her and girls had just arrived, Brendan looked up. He was slouched in his sitting room with Walker and Warren. They were playing the most one sided game of chess the world had ever seen. If he couldn't kill it or threaten it, it wasn't really Warren's thing. Tactics were Walker's forte, which he proved by calling "check-mate" for the third time in twenty minutes. Brendan couldn't actually work out what was keeping Warren in the game.

A car honked outside.

'Anne's here,' he said, getting to his feet. 'Have you two decided which one of yous is driving Doug in to town?'

'We've had a thought about that, actually,' Warren said, glancing to Walker, who just gave him a reassuring nod.

'A thought, between the two of you,' Brendan feigned over-whelming pride, clutching his chest and pretending to well up. 'I knew this day would come. I feel like a proud da.' And through the twin scowls he asked:

'Are you going to tell me the thought? Or am I supposed to guess? I'll let you in on a secret.' He stepped forward and whispered loudly: 'I'm no psychic.'

'We're not going to town,' Warren blurted out, Walker backing him up with another firm nod. 'Walker's going to grab himself a girl, 'cause he missed out last week. I'll drive around and let the boys know the girls have arrived and you can drive in to the city.'

'Me?' Brendan pointed to himself. 'Drive to the city?'

'Yeah,' Warren seemed to be gaining in confidence.

'And you, drive around here as the alarm?'

'Exactly.'

Brendan stared at him for a moment. He tilted his head to the side. He was curious to see if Warren would back down. He didn't and Walker stood firm too. Interesting.

'Okay,' he conceded. 'I'll drive to town.'

And with that he marched outside to greet Anne. She kissed him on the, cheek which was something she always did but Brendan enjoyed it more than usual today because he knew Warren was watching. And Warren's day was only going to get worse as over the hill came Doug flanked by Brendan's working boys for the night.

'Riley, Bartholomew, Spi-. I'm sorry, I can't say it. Spike's the name of an idiot.'

'It's what my parents called me, innit.'

'Really?' Brendan scowled. 'They couldn't have just called you "Paul"?'

'I ain't no "Paul", bra.'

Brendan twitched a little: 'Did you just call me "bra"?'

'Brendan doesn't have much experience with those,' Anne laughed her little head off at her joke. She was the only one brave enough, but the others were poorly supressing smirks. He would not allow himself to be made a fool of.

'You,' Brendan glared at Anne. 'Don't try and be funny. You,' he turned to the four lads. 'Get in the car,' he pointed to his BMW. 'We're going to town.'

'What!' Warren exclaimed. 'No. I'm taking the beemer.'

'No,' Brendan replied, as though this should have been obvious. 'You're doing the rounds. I remember you being very specific about it. So you need to take Anne's car.' On cue, she smiled sweetly as she held the keys between two fingers and dangled them ahead of Warren. The key fob was pink and fluffy; brilliant.

'My car needs to go to town,' Brendan continued. Every moment feeling like a small victory. 'I need to make back my petrol costs. These boys,' he jerked a thumb towards the three lads in the back of the BMW, 'are going to go around the town making us money.'

He could almost feel the heated hatred coming off Warren. Walker, however, seemed to be mildly impressed and was almost enjoying this as much as Brendan was. Macca was of course barely able to contain himself, which prompted Anne to threaten:

'Stop laughing like a hyena or I will slap you so hard you'll be seeing stars for days.'

'Are you gonna let her talk to me like that?' Macca demanded. Brendan paused, for dramatic effect, it was all about the show and then:

'Yes.' He patted Macca on the arse as he moved towards the car. 'Be good,' he warned. 'That goes for all of you.'

::

Warren had been more than angry when he'd returned from his rounds. He'd stormed through the double front door practically snapping the hinges.

'Someone's in a mood,' Mitzeee and smiled. She couldn't help herself. It was all just too easy. 'You better not have damaged my car.'

'Your car's damaged me,' he seethed, spit flying from between his teeth. Attractive.

'How poetic,' she shook her hair behind her shoulders. She was wearing a dress that clung to her, a big, glamorous fur coat which she hadn't bothered to close at the front. Well, why cover her best assets? Warren certainly seemed to be enjoying them.

'I'm serious. Should have seen the looks I was getting.'

'I've seen the way you boys race 'round here,' she said smugly. 'The only looks you would have seen would have been blind panic as they tried not to get their heads smashed on my windscreen.'

He narrowed his eyes and unzipped his coat, dropping it onto the floor behind him. Brendan wouldn't like that. His house was immaculate at all times.

'So,' Warren said in low, gravelly voice. 'We gonna do this, or what?'

She'd been in this business long enough to know exactly what Warren was talking about. She wasn't stupid. She knew what people wanted and she knew how to give it to them but not Warren. She was too expensive for him. So she played dumb, it was what most men liked from her anyway, all men, in fact … except Brendan. But then Brendan had no interest in what she was actually good at so, he was different.

'Do what?' she blinked, the perfect picture of innocence.

'You know what,' Warren continued, ripping his t-shirt off over his head. Mitzeee found herself wondering if this tactic had ever worked on any woman. It certainly wasn't working on her.

'I don't sleep with the men on The Estate and Brendan doesn't pay me to keep you satisfied,' she said, business-like. 'There're plenty of girls in Central Square. You know, if you're desperate.'

Warren let out a sharp bark and glared at her. She didn't even jump. Knowing Brendan for so long had rendered her practically immune to the unexpected. She pulled her coat around her, Warren had seen enough for free, and strutted towards the door. She was feeling pretty in control until she felt a hand grip her wrist like a coiled boa constrictor and the hiss of the snake in her ear:

'You listen to me,' he said, hot breath against her cheek. 'You may be Brendan's favourite, but we both know you're no better than the whores you bring here.'

'I'm not for sale. Not to you, not for a price you can afford.' She tried to sound strong, but she suspected she was failing. The grip on her wrist got tighter, it was like her was trying to powder her bones in his grip. She clenched her teeth to stop herself from crying out. She was scared now. Truth was, for all her big words, there was no way she could overpower a man like Warren.

'Hey,' she heard a voice interrupt them. It was a calm voice with an English accent, the only voice, except for Brendan's, that was likely to halt Warren.

They both looked up. Walker looked pretty stern as he brushed his 90s boyband hair away from his eyes. 'Let her go, Warren. She's said "no".'

'She's a hooker,' Warren groaned, his face pleading with Walker. 'She doesn't get to say "no".'

'She's a lady,' Walker smiled at her. It was actually quite creepy. Mitzeee couldn't quite remember ever having seen Walker smile before. Besides, she would definitely not describe herself as "a lady". 'Anyway,' he turned back to Warren. 'Brendan wouldn't like it.'

Warren scowled for a few seconds and then just grunted something indecipherable and collapsed onto the sofa.

'Perhaps you should find somewhere else to hang out,' Walker suggested. 'As Brendan's not here, there's really no need for you to be either.'

'Same could be said for the two of you,' she replied with an air of politeness. 'Don't you have your own homes to go to?'

But she didn't stick around for the answer, she snuck outside and got in her car to drive to Central Square. She wasn't going to walk, she didn't walk anywhere in 6" €200 heels.

'So, er, how's your week been?' Ste asked. He was lying in bed with Rae and this was the time she usually expected them to talk. She'd been pretty silent so far and it was slightly awkward.

'Yeah, alright. I started some extra acting classes. We were working on our American accents,' she drawled in what Ste had to assume was her attempt at an American accent. It probably needed some work.

'That's good, yeah,' he encouraged. 'Bet you're proper good at acting, you. I can see it, now lights everywhere and right in the middle, your name; Rae, er….'

'Wilson,' she finished for him.

'Right, yeah, probably should have known that really.'

'Why?' she asked. She sounded a bit distant, almost angry. 'Why should you know anything about me? This is the only time we ever get to see each other. We only talk, after we've slept together.'

'Yeah, well you are a….' He stopped. He didn't think calling a prostitute was going to help her mood. 'You're busy,' he omitted. 'And I'm here.'

'But wouldn't you like to go on a date? A proper date, like proper couples.'

'Yeah, it would be nice, but….'

'But nothing,' she frowned, sitting up so the sheets fell from around her and Ste was all too distracted for a moment to really listen. 'We talk about this amazing future, us living normal lives and being famous and things, but we've never even been to Dublin together. You should come to my show this weekend or we could go to the cinema or something?'

'Sure,' he nodded, vaguely. He'd probably agree to anything at the moment. He wasn't actually entirely sure what she was saying. But he heard the next sentence, loud and clear:

'So you'll talk to Brendan.'

'What? Brendan, why?'

'About coming to my show.' She was acting like they'd been discussing this. 'I mean, I'm assuming he has a say on whether you can leave in the evening.'

'I dunno,' Ste shrugged. He honestly hadn't thought about leaving. Ever since he'd arrived on The Estate, he hadn't had the slightest thought to leave.

'Well, you need to find out Ste,' she almost sounded forceful. He quite liked that about her, especially when she straddled him and began kissing at his neck. 'Ready for round 2,' she asked, licking a hot, wet line over his outer ear.

'Always,' he grinned, catching her mouth in a kiss.

::

It was 3am, and Ste was sneaking a last couple of kisses with Rae. She was more giggly than usual, and she somehow seemed prettier and innocent tonight. Maybe it was just because the girls Joel and Bart had picked up were right mingers.

He walked her as far as the road and she'd kissed him again, deep and passionate and far more loving than a prostitute and client should be. But they were far more than that, Ste knew it. But of course it was that moment that Kevin, Bart, Spike and Doug returned.

'Wahey!' shouted Kevin, a look of pure delight across his face. 'Is that wedding bells I hear Ste?'

'Aw do one,' Ste shouted back, taking Rae by the hand.

'N'aww,' Spike chimed in. 'Thinks he's in love or summat, innit.'

'I said do one,' he repeated. He got why this was so funny. None of the other boys gave a toss about the birds they'd picked. Bart didn't even look at his girl, and Joel had just given his half a wave. Though Ste suspected things had gone a bit sour after the night he'd first arrived and Joel had seen his bird earning money with that good looking tosspot from Red Zone, the one with "Reem" written on almost every t-shirt he owned. Rae wouldn't do that to Ste thought, she was different.

'I've got to go or I'll be late' Rae said, pulling her hand away and planting a kiss on his cheek. And as she walked away, she called back: 'You'll find out about my show.' She ran down the pavement then, because she always turned up in trainers rather than heals, because she was real. She wasn't all about the money, she was special. Of course the lads would have to ruin that.

'You'll find out about my show,' Bart mimicked, doing an over exaggerated run and flicking imaginary blonde hair over his shoulder.

'Leave her alone, right,' Ste snarled. 'Where the hell have you been anyway?'

'Dublin,' Kevin answered.

'Dublin. Why?'

'Fancied a lads night out, innit,' Spike shrugged. 'Went on a good old fashioned Irish pub crawl.'

'Really?' Ste was amazed. Was it really that easy to leave and go to Dublin and get drunk?

'No, course not.' Bart scoffed. 'Brendan would never allow anyone to just leave for no reason.'

'It's like the unwritten rule, innit?' Spike added. 'You stay until you're useless.' Now that Ste thought about it, they were all very clearly not drunk, just buzzing off the trip but he pressed on, any hope of seeing Rae's show fading fast:

'So no one ever just goes out for the night to visit family or something?'

'No one here's got any family, Ste,' Kevin chuckled giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder. 'That's why most of us are here. No family, no money, no chance.'

'I wouldn't even want to leave,' Bart added loudly. 'I've got nothing outside The Estate.'

'I'm with you, mate,' Spike nodded. 'Nothing out there for me except prison and sleeping rough.'

'Nothing for me neither,' Ste agreed, trying to mask his disappointment. He wasn't sure how bothered he'd been about going to see Rae's show before, but now that it had been taken away from him it suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world.

'So if you weren't getting drunk, why were you in Dublin?' Joel asked. He had a can of beer in his hand, and his shirt was off and slung around his shoulders. It was way too cold for that, but everyone in Blue Zone knew that Joel was on a new diet and exercise regime. Now it seemed he was ready to show off the outcome.

'We were on a job,' Spike answered. 'Trying to earn back Dougie's petrol money. You got any more of those?' he pointed to the can.

'Loads,' Joel nodded. 'Go and grab the other lads, we can hear tales from Dublin's fair city.'

Spike ran off shouting something about being back soon and: 'Don't expect Doug, poor little guy's exhausted.'

Doug always looked exhausted when he came back from O'Shaughnessy and Ste couldn't stop his brain from assuming that the fat man in the too tight clothes was obviously a pretty good lay.

::

'Should have seen some of the stuff we picked up,' Kevin smirked, opening up a can. 'Tourists, it's just too easy sometimes. We snagged this Spanish woman's purse; €500, just like that. Who the hell walks about with €500 in their pocket?'

'Someone who doesn't care about money,' Joel shrugged.

'The foggies,' Spike and Mickey said in unison. And Mickey explained: 'Everyone knows old people is scared of debit card, innit. At Christmas, they is practically walking 'round with their life savings in their pockets.'

'And they is old,' Spike agreed. 'Lots of savings, innit.'

'Yeah, just don't try to break into their houses.' Ste was well into his second beer, and trying not to think about asking Brendan to be allowed to go on his non-date with Rae. 'Some of them have got burglar alarms you know, in case anyone wants to steal their black and white television.'

'Bad experience, Ste?' Bart snorted, scoffing his face full of Doritos. He wasn't drinking but he sure as hell had taken something.

'Chased by the police for twenty minutes, though Chester,' he said, remembering his final job with Callum as vividly as if it were happening right now. 'And the old bat had was a DVD player from 2001.'

'Someone would buy it though,' Spike pointed out. 'Someone'll buy anything.'

'It got smashed up during the chase,' Ste shrugged.

'How?' Joel asked. He really seemed to be enjoying this story.

Ste shrugged a bit: 'Knocked it against a wall, I think.'

They were all laughing now.

'Wait, wait,' Kevin held his sides as gasped a bit as he tried to stop laughing long enough to form an entire sentence. 'Let me get this straight, you robbed an old ladies house, who had a burglar alarm, the only thing you manage to nick is a DVD player,' the laughter started to bubble through his words.

'From 2001,' Bart helpfully chipped in.

'From 2001,' Kevin repeated. 'And in the chase, you managed to break the DVD player so you couldn't even sell it on.' He was laughing so hard it looked painful, they all were. And even Ste found his mouth betraying a smile when Kevin said: 'Ste, mate, seriously … how did you eat?'

'Shu'up,' but even he couldn't stop the smile as the conversation broke down into good-natured arguing.

Ste was a bit tired now, his blinking was getting longer and beginning to feel more and more like sleep. He only came out of his slumber-like daze when Riley came through the door. The grin on his face was bright enough to wake anyone from near slumber.

'Oh hello,' Kevin nodded towards the latest arrival. 'Someone's looking pretty pleased with himself.'

'Don't tell me you finally managed to convince Mitzeee to drop her standards to you,' Joel frowned, throwing a beer at Riley's head. He caught it deftly and Ste was mildly impressed. If Joel ever did that to him, he'd end up in A&E with a broken nose.

'A gentleman never tells,' he smirked tapping his nose with a finger before opening his beer.

'Good thing you're not a gentleman,' Kevin snorted.

Ste didn't really have the energy to join in. He was still wondering about Doug. He found it sort of strange that the yank never wanted to hang out with them after he'd been to O'Shaughnessy's. And he was wondering how the hell he was supposed to ask Brendan about going to see Rae's show, and somehow getting the money to pay for it.

'Look mate,' Riley said, sitting down and stealing a few Doritos from Bart's bag. 'All you lot have to know, is that it was the best night of me life.'

'He has you know,' Spike nodded honestly, looking at Mickey. 'He's done it.'

'He has,' Mickey agreed in the same earnest way. Then he grinned: 'He's lost his virginity.'

'Finally,' Spike added. They were both keeping amazingly straight faces as alcohol and post-coital bliss had the other boys laughing their heads off.

'Congratulations.' Mickey punched Riley on the arm.

'You two are a pair of tits, you know that.'

'Well, you've seen what they look like now so….'

Ste just excused himself quietly. He couldn't keep up with all this. He had too many thoughts running through his head: Doug's health, Rae's show, Brendan's payback. He needed to sleep.

Thanks for reading! I really appreciate your time!

Love and cwtches,

Sisi...xx