Cheryl had learnt well that between the hours of 8am and 5pm, her and Brendan were to have minimal contact. In fact, he was to have minimal contact with everyone, whether customer or employee. This was easier said than done when stock taking had to be completed, the club had to be decorated if there was a themed event on, or if they had to go over the takings for that month. On his days off Brendan could be even worse. It had taken weeks before she'd managed to convince him to get dressed and off the sofa and emerge back into the daylight. Him staying cooped up like that was ridiculous, and she could see his anxiety building with each passing day.

Come 5pm, he was like a different person. She could see his whole body lift somehow, his face smoothing from the frowning, worried, older than his years man he had momentarily become. A small smile would grace his lips, and he would stare at the door hungrily, hopefully. Cheryl could practically see his heart beating beneath his shirt, and she would stifle back a laugh, still shocked and secretly delighted at seeing her brother like this.

Then a pair of chino clad ankles would appear, running up the stairs of Chez Chez eagerly, or a quick, desperate knock would sound on the flat's door, and before she'd have time to draw in a breath, Brendan and Ste would be attached by the lips, their hands running everywhere, words unnecessary.

She would turn away, somehow feeling that this was an intensely private moment. She always felt like that with both of them, as if she was intruding on something special and intense, something which she didn't entirely understand, and probably never could.

Sometimes, when there were other people around, she would watch them, to see how they would behave. She knew she was being nosy, but she couldn't help it. She never thought the day would come when she'd see Brendan in a relationship with a man, accepting himself and being the one who was unwilling to draw apart from a kiss. She wanted to know if this extended to more public displays of affection too.

The first time she saw it, she'd been in the village, grabbing some wine for a night in on the sofa with Barney. Her friend with benefits that no one quite knew that she had. She'd looked up from the window absentmindedly and seen Brendan standing near the alley, leaning against the wall. He was looking from left to right, his fingers doing that twitching thing that they often did when he was agitated. He had put on his red shirt that Cheryl hadn't seen for years, and it clung tightly to his toned chest, the buttons undone enough to show the cross necklace that lied on a smatter of dark, wiry hair.

"I'm meeting a friend"

He'd said it before, and she hadn't probed. But all dressed up like that to see a mate? His hands unable to stay still as he made his way round the kitchen, touching the counter top, peering into the fridge, flicking through the newspapers, stroking his moustache.

She had a strong suspicion that his newfound nervousness had to do with a certain Mancunian former barman, with skin as smooth and soft as velvet, his eyelashes so thick and long that they were like a cartoon characters, his manner an irresistible combination of brash and bold and kind and beautiful.

Cheryl had stayed inside the shop, idly pretending to be fascinated with the different types of soup on display, keeping an eye on her brother.

After watching him standing alone for a few minutes, looking out nervously through the people milling along the streets, she had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that he had been stood up. She had wondered whether this had been his and Ste's first official date, and if the lad had bailed at the last second. God knows they'd had a rocky time of it. There had been more back and forth between them than she could count. What if Ste had decided that he couldn't go through with it after all? She wouldn't entirely blame him. She loved her brother, but she didn't know if she could forgive someone if they did to her what Brendan had done to him.

Just as Cheryl had been about to go outside and come up with some excuse for Brendan to come home with her and preserve his dignity, she watched as he transformed. The change was so drastic that she wondered if her eyes had been playing tricks on her before when she had thought that he looked like someone who needed saving.

A smile had broken across his face, and he looked younger somehow, more free. His hands were still, perfectly composed, and he stood proud and confident, his posture wide and open.

It hadn't taken her long to spot Ste bounding towards him, dressed in a pair of jeans which fit him like a glove, highlighting his lithe, skinny frame wonderfully. He was wearing a smart shirt, a shade of blue which complimented his eyes, even from where Cheryl was standing. His skin was lightly tanned, and in the sunshine it seemed to glow even more. She could more than see the attraction, why Brendan had needed to have the boy as his own.

There were others around, people who saw the man that Brendan presented to the world everyday. The club owner, who wore the flashy suits and barked orders at his employees. The man who liked to spook people and gained pleasure out of watching as their expressions gave away their fear or uncertainty around him. But in that moment, Cheryl doubted whether he even noticed their presence. His eyes weren't for Mitzeee Minniver, coming out of her flat, arm in arm with Riley, staring at them curiously. Jacqui and Rhys held no interest to him, despite the fact that Rhys had been calling in sick for the last week, and they'd had to work overtime, unable to afford hiring other staff. Brendan looked almost mesmerised, not breaking eye contact with Ste for a second. Ste had a faint blush to his cheeks, and was smiling so fiercely that Cheryl was surprised that his jaw wasn't sore from the action.

She watched as Brendan motioned for Ste to come closer into the alleyway, and Ste instantly followed him, unwavering trust and devotion on his face. Brendan backed him against the wall and leaned forwards to kiss him, lightly at first. It was as if that small moment of affection triggered Ste, like a match being set alight, and the boy responded eagerly and almost desperately, brushing his lips against the older man with a ferocious intensity. Brendan's hands were in Ste's hair, at the spot at the back which looked particularly soft, his fingertips stroking as their mouths explored one another. Ste had a hand lightly cupped against Brendan's cheek, using it to pull him closer towards him, as if he couldn't get enough, and never would.

When they broke apart she could almost feel their loss. Ste was the one to break it first, laughing and motioning for them to get out of the alley.

"We don't want to be late, do we?"

Brendan smiled after him, and it was then that Cheryl realised that it was one of those rare smiles that her brother gave which spoke of complete happiness and contentment. Apart from a few weeks ago when Brendan and Ste had walked into the flat hand in hand, letting her know that they were together, that this was for keeps, she couldn't remember the last time she had seen that smile.

They had walked off then, a short space between them, but she didn't miss the way Brendan's shirt brushed against Ste's, the way they seemed in sync, as if they moved together, mirroring each others actions unconsciously.

Brendan had returned in the early hours of the morning, when Cheryl was still awake, having just said goodnight to Barney. She came out of her room and started heading towards the stairs, ready to ask him how his night had been. She had heard him humming and whistling to himself as he came in, and it took her several seconds to realise that he was not alone. She sat at the top of the stairs, out of sight. It was too dark to see anything clearly, but she could make out two shapes, their voices hushed and low.

"See, I told you. Everyone's asleep."

"So?"

"So..." She heard the distinct sound of lips crushing together. "Stay over."

"I can't, Amy's expecting me back."

"Do you always do what she tells you?"

"She's not exactly happy about this... arrangement, Brendan."

"Arrangement being?"

"Me and you. It's just going to take her a while to get used to it, and I don't think me not coming home at night is going to make things better."

"It'll make things better for me." He whispered it, and she heard the sound of kissing again, before the smaller figure broke away.

"No, I really can't..."

Her brother sighed, and she was again taken aback by the depth of his feelings for Ste. She knew she shouldn't be, after everything they'd been through, after how Brendan had actively pursued him for more than two years. But it was something about how honest he was being now, how he was exposing his feelings for Ste to see. It was almost as if he was saying I want you, and I don't care who knows it. She couldn't help but admire him.

She saw Ste shuffle closer to Brendan, laying his head on his chest. He snaked his arms around him and began massaging the plains of his back. She watched in surprise as Brendan wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him close, nuzzling his hair and inhaling. So Brendan did hugging now, too? She wondered what else she still had to find out about him. It seemed these days that he was capable of anything.

"Thanks for today. That's what our first date should have been like."

So she had been right. Their first official date as a couple, or boyfriends, or partners, or whatever they were. It wasn't something that Brendan particularly liked to define, but somehow that no longer mattered, to her or to Ste, it seemed. Maybe they didn't need a label. They were what they were.

"Let's forget about that, yeah? This was our first..."

"Date?" Ste said, laughing at Brendan's inability to say the word.

"Mmmm."

Cheryl idly wondered what had happened on their first date that had been bad enough for them to both want to forget it. It was a part of Brendan's life which he had never revealed to her, and she knew better than to push it.

She heard Ste breath in and exhale, and it struck her then that it wasn't just Brendan who seemed happier than she'd ever seen him. The last few years a cloud had seemed to settle over Ste, a permanent sense of worry and insecurity surrounding him. He would laugh and smile and be his usual upbeat self at times, but Cheryl couldn't help but think that behind that was hidden something that he wasn't comfortable with exploring or looking too deeply into, for fear that once he started, he would never be able to stop. Like a hole you couldn't crawl out of.

She couldn't put her finger on exactly when or how things had begun to change, but these days he walked with a lightness, and talked a mile a minute like it was going out of fashion. Cheryl had thought more than once that he was that strange and wonderful combination of being half way between a man and a boy. Mature and responsible when he wanted to be, and smart too. Not book smart - she could tell that he hadn't stayed in school for a particularly long time, and had little formal qualifications - but he had a razor sharp mind on him if the situation called for it, and more common sense and business instinct than most. But secretly she wondered if Brendan liked him just as much for this as he did for his easy humour, his childlike joy of the world, his dreamlike nature, his belief in hope and his unwillingness to give up. On paper she realised that Brendan and Ste should never work, but in reality they somehow fit, as unconventional and complex as it was.

As she went back to bed, not wanting to intrude any further on this private moment, she felt both a sense of satisfaction and a feeling of dread at what she had seen that day. Watching her brother kissing Ste in public - albeit in the shadows of an alleyway - was a big step, something which showed he was willing to announce to the world that he was gay, was in a relationship with another man, and was an act of showing this man that he was no longer ashamed. But she couldn't quite shake the fear that Brendan was like a ticking time bomb, about to go off at any moment. She had seen him let down Ste time and time again, and although she sensed that things were different now, she still quietly anticipated the day when Ste would pass her in the village with bruises covering his face, a swollen lip, eyes sparkling with tears. She hated herself for doubting Brendan that much, but her angelic vision of her brother had been replaced with a heavy dose of reality long ago, and she had decided to brace herself to expect that the whole thing could come crashing down around them.

It was exactly 5.30pm, and Brendan couldn't stop pacing the office. He had already hurt his foot beating it against the filing cabinet several times, and his mouth felt so dry that he'd had to refill his glass with water at least a dozen times already. It was times like this that he thanked God that he worked in a club, and had minimal interaction during the day. There was no way he could face people when he was like this.

He tried calling him again, but his phone was still switched off. He swore furiously. Why couldn't he be like one of those normal people who texted while they were at work? Why did he have to be so damn professional? As the answer phone message started, he listened as he heard Steven's voice come through, giving that message that he now knew off by heart.

"Hiya! It's Ste here, I can't get to the phone right now. I'm probably at my deli, ain't I?"

He couldn't help but smile as he heard Steven give that ridiculously loud laugh of his, as if in extreme satisfaction and amazement at the realisation that he owned his own business, even after all this time.

"So leave a message, and I'll get back to you!"

Brendan took an intake of breath as he prepared to leave another message, but then stopped himself, and hung up. He'd already left two, and he was aware that he had sounded increasingly pathetic on the second one, stuttering over his words and finishing at the end by saying "Oh, and it's Brendan, by the way," as if Steven had an Irishman who called him by his full name phoning him every day.

He'd tried to hide the panic from his voice as best as he could, but suspected that he'd failed miserably. Two scenarios were going through his mind over and over again, like some torturous loop which he was bound to hear for all eternity.

The first one, by far the most painful, was that something had happened to Steven. It wasn't like him to arrive back from work later than expected and not call, and Brendan's mind ticked over with the possibility that someone had hurt him. He imagined Steven walking home from Carter and Hay and being kidnapped and driven away in a van, too shocked to even scream. He knew this was stupid and impossible. It was broad daylight outside, and someone was always around. Very few things happened in Hollyoaks without someone knowing about it. Nonetheless, the thought of Steven being attacked or injured in any way made him sick to his stomach, and he felt rage burning in his chest at the mere idea of it. Never would he let the boy come to any harm, never. There was no doubt in his mind what he would do if something happened. First he would kill whoever did it. Then he would kill himself. When he imagined Cheryl and his kids faces he would feel a twist of guilt for considering this, but Steven was a part of him now, and living without him was inconceivable.

The second scenario was that Steven was with Douglas. Spending time with Douglas, laughing with Douglas, talking with Douglas, Fucking Douglas, Brendan thought with a sinking, ugly feeling in his gut.

When Brendan and Steven had first decided to be together, there had been certain conditions. Mainly set by Steven, which Brendan found impossible to resist, because he didn't think he could refuse the boy anything. Some were obvious and therefore unspoken. No violence ever again. No constant control and manipulation. Being as polite and respectful to Amy as possible.

The one which was spoken was the one which Brendan found most difficult of all. Somehow the violence and the control he could deal with - he knew those had to stop, and he no longer had any desire to hurt Steven in any shape or form. The idea caused him near physical pain. If he could have kissed every one of his now healed wounds better, than he would have. He'd have erased them and made all the pain go away.

But Steven's condition that he be able to remain working alongside Douglas at the deli was one of the hardest things that Brendan had ever had to agree to. The thought of Steven being around his ex day in, day out wasn't something that Brendan was going to let happen.

They'd been in bed one night, spooned in each others arms, trying to get their breath back. Steven played with Brendan's chest hair while Brendan closed his eyes and sucked the delicate skin on Steven's neck.

"Brendan..."

He wasn't particularly in the mood for talking. In fact, he was already up for round two, and could think of a million ways that Steven's mouth could be put to better use.

"What?" he said, trying to make his intentions clear by making a trail with his fingers down Steven's chest, until he reached his groin. He cupped his balls gently, giving them a squeeze, and he felt Steven's hips push upwards immediately. He smirked. It didn't take much to get the lad aroused, that was for sure.

Brendan shuffled down in the bed, opening up his mouth in preparation of putting it around Steven's hardening cock. He was just running his nose over Steven's pubic hair when Steven sat up suddenly in bed, almost knocking Brendan over.

"Wait."

He folded his arms across his chest, as Brendan stared up at him. It wasn't often that Steven refused to have sex with him. Brendan could count on his hand the number of times it had happened, and it was usually followed by Steven coming out of whatever sulk or foul mood he'd been in, and groping for Brendan's belt moments later. The sex that followed was then of the rough and intense variety - even more so than usual. Brendan found that making up with Steven after whatever silly, petty argument they had was quickly becoming the highlight of his day. He should warn the boy that if he continued like that, Brendan would find it hard to resist finding more reasons to get on his bad side.

He had no reason to believe that that night would be any different.

"Come on, come back down here." Brendan used his best persuasive voice, the kind that almost always worked. Coupled with the soft stroking of one of Steven's hairy legs, Brendan's hand rising closer and closer to where Brendan's cock most wanted to be.

"I'm not falling for it again."

Shit. Maybe Steven had known about his not so subtle tactics all along.

"I keep on trying to bring it up, and then you just kiss me...and I forget everything."

"I never asked you to forget, Steven."

"It's hard to keep talking when you're down between my legs!" he said, so defiantly that Brendan felt like laughing.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Brendan rolled his eyes. He'd never tell Steven that he liked him like this. Stroppy, opinionated. In control of his own mind, not letting anyone mess him around.

"Go on then, what do you want to tell me?"

Steven took a deep breath, and took a pillow from behind him, playing with its corners as he spoke.

"I want to keep working at the deli."

Brendan swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling like it was constricting.

"I know you don't want me working there, with Doug...but it's my business. I've wanted something like that all my life, you know? Something that's mine, that I built from scratch. I never thought I'd achieve something like that. I can't just lose it all."

Brendan was silent for a moment. His old reaction would have been to deny Steven this most basic need: to have power over his own life, his own decisions. If it affected Brendan in any way, then he previously wouldn't have agreed to it.

But now...

"You and Douglas..." Just having them in the same sentence together was painful, something which he hoped he'd avoid having to do ever again. They didn't belong to each other in his mind. Douglas, and his Steven. As far as he was concerned, they should remain forever unconnected, as far away from each other as possible.

So far he'd done a pretty good job of making sure that happened. He and Steven had been together for a week by then, and Steven had taken a break from work, hiring Barney at the last minute to take his place. They'd spent the time off in bed as much as possible, only surfacing when absolutely necessary. When it came to meals, Steven had made himself familiar with Brendan's kitchen, and Brendan had lounged in bed, stroking his cock idly as he waited for Steven to return upstairs. When he did, Steven had smiled at his obvious erection, tenting the sheets.

"Someone's excited."

Brendan took hold of his hand and guided it underneath the covers, encouraging Steven to touch him the way he liked to be touched. He need not have bothered - he knew exactly what to do to work him into a frenzy, no assistance required.

"What about your food?" Steven had said, gesturing towards the tray he had brought up, buttered toast with a thick layer of seedless jam.

"We can do both. Food and sex," he said, lying back against the headboard.

Steven grinned as he picked up a slice of toast with his free hand, concentrating on rubbing Brendan's cock with the other. He held it out to Brendan, who crunched down hard on the toast, crumbs covering the sheets. He wondered, not for the first time, how Steven could make even toast taste so damn good. There really was no end to the boy's talents.

Brendan licked his lips, picking up the jam which had spread round his mouth, as Steven's strokes intensified. Brendan rolled his hips forward, thrusting into Steven's hand and setting the pace. Steven lent forward and kissed Brendan, so that when he drew back, his own mouth tasted of jam. The boy tasted sweet and warm, and Brendan was tempted to shove the breakfast aside and work his tongue down every inch of Steven's body.

Instead he settled for being at Steven's mercy, for once completely at ease with letting someone else take the reins. He let himself be fed and jerked off, and found himself unable to chew after a while when he felt his orgasm beginning to build, the only sound his mouth was able to make consisting of groans.

When he came, the cum covering his stomach and Steven's hand, he smiled, still slightly disbelieving of the fact that this was his life now. Being able to have Steven whenever he wanted, seeing that face of his every day, feeling satisfaction in a way that no other man had ever been able to provoke. He watched transfixed as Steven began licking the cum off his hand and from his body, lapping at it.

Brendan had entertained fantasies of them staying there together forever. He ignored Cheryl and Joel's comments that Brendan was needed at the club. Leaving Steven at night was too hard, especially when the boy would stretch out on the bed, naked as the day he was born, his ass looking deliciously inviting, his legs easily pliable.

"You two attached at the hip or something?" Joel would mutter under his breath. Brendan didn't miss the daggers he would shoot at Steven. It amused him if he was honest. There was no harm in it, and he had a certain pleasure in being fought over. Steven and Joel's jealousy over the other was plain to see, and whilst Brendan's loyalties were with his boy, he enjoyed watching them squabble like siblings.

Steven's words had brought him back down to earth with a heavy bump. Brendan had known he'd have to let him out of his sights eventually. Staying cocooned away from the world was all very well, but it could only last so long. Amy had already started having a go at them, telling them tales about how Leah and Lucas missed their daddy, that he wasn't spending enough time with them. Brendan tried to concentrate on the practical things - his need to make money, to sort things out at Chez Chez, to let Steven support his family by keeping the business in profit - and to do this he had to ignore the beauty of him, the way he made him feel.

"You have no feelings for him, right?"

Brendan rarely voiced these kind of thoughts out loud. Steven couldn't know how much he was consumed with jealousy over his and Douglas's past relationship. Brendan was sure that he had a pretty good idea of it, given how Brendan had constantly belittled Douglas, but he was trying to let go of those insecurities now that they were together.

"Of course not." Steven let go of the pillow and took Brendan's hand. He liked holding hands, Brendan had learned that early on. He seemed to find a comfort in it, an assurance of love and affection that sometimes not even a kiss could bring him. Brendan was happy to comply, smoothing his thumb over the soft flesh.

"I love you. You must know that."

He hadn't always. Steven had used to look at him with disgust, pity, dislike. Brendan had been sure that he'd even seen hate in his eyes a couple of times. He hadn't blamed him. Steven's face had merely reflected back at him all the things he'd done, the hate he felt for himself.

But now the boy's eyes burned with love and need, his expression completely open, a trust written there that Brendan wasn't entirely sure he deserved.

"Yeah. I know."

"I have to do this, Bren. I love that deli. It makes me happy."

Happy...

More than anything else, Brendan wanted Steven to be happy. He was determined that he should be, even if it was sometimes at the expense of his own joy.

"Okay."

Steven had stared at him hopefully. "Okay as in..."

"As in, yes. Yes, you can work with Douglas."

Brendan was sure that he wasn't really giving his permission for anything. Steven would have worked at Carter and Hay again if he had supported it or not. But from Steven's reaction, he knew that his words meant a great deal, at least if the mind numbing blow job he had given him afterwards was anything to go by.

That didn't mean that Brendan hadn't given him a few conditions of his own. Namely that if Douglas tried anything, and he meant anything, then he'd tell him immediately, and he'd...well, Brendan hadn't said exactly what he'd do. He hadn't thought that replying "I'm going to kill the little creep" would be what Steven was looking for. Brendan may have had no intention of ever raising his fists to Steven again, but if Douglas tried to take him away from him, it would take a hell of a lot of pleading and coaxing from Steven for Brendan to calm down. He'd wasted far too much time living without the boy. No way was Douglas going to be in Steven's bed and his heart ever again.

Ste looked at his watch, cursing loudly as he saw that he was more than an hour late. He'd been stuck at the deli when the stock had arrived late. Bloody delivery men. He made a mental note to find a new supplier. It had only happened the once, and in his rational mind he knew that it wasn't the guy's fault. But once was still too much, especially if it meant that Brendan would be angry with him.

Despite Brendan's best attempts to hide it, Ste knew how he worried when he was at work. From the moment he set out in the morning to make his way from his flat to the village, he'd get his first text of the day, something that never failed to both comfort him and make him anxious.

Morning. You sleep well?

Whenever Brendan's name showed up in his inbox, he got a little thrill that made him feel like some silly teenager. It was just still hard for him to realise that this was happening.

Brendan Brady is my boyfriend.

It sounded strange, surreal, wonderful.

He'd hastily type out a reply, their texts increasingly getting more filthy and flirtatious in tone, so that by the time Ste reached work, he and Brendan had planned out exactly what they'd do to each other that night, down to the positions. Ste would stare up at Brendan's flat as he stood outside Carter and Hay, his skin tingling from knowing that Brendan was behind that door.

He couldn't help but want to reach out through the stairs and wall that separated them and tell him that he understood. That he knew that the texts weren't completely just a way to see if he was okay, and start the morning off with some light - or heavy, depending on the mood - innuendos. Deep down he knew that they were also Brendan's attempt to keep Ste to himself, to somehow establish his ownership of him, to remind him that they had something important between them which Doug couldn't come between. What Brendan didn't seem to realise was that he didn't need to do that. Ste never for a moment doubted who he was meant to be with, who he loved. Doug was just his business partner now, and frankly he thought it was a miracle that they were still on speaking terms and that Doug was comfortable enough to work with him, considering how they'd ended things.

They still managed to have a laugh together and communicate well. They could never have run the deli if they'd carried on having tension between them. Ste would never forget how Doug had been there for him during a time in his life when he'd needed him. He was one of the kindest people he knew, and the last thing Ste wanted was to see Doug suffering in any way.

He'd noticed lately that Doug seemed more settled, less nervous around him. Ste had a sneaking suspicion that he'd started dating again, but didn't ask him anything. He didn't think they'd ever be at that stage, where they'd discuss boyfriends. He was extremely reluctant to ever open that can of worms again.

He wondered if he should tell Brendan though, as some way of relieving his doubts about Doug and Ste being with each other every day. Maybe it would help him if he knew that Doug had moved on.

Having an opportunity to turn on his phone at last, Ste listened to the two messages that Brendan had left him. In the first Ste could practically imagine him trying to hold himself together and be composed enough to sound calm and casual. In the second Brendan's voice faltered, and he repeated the same thing several times.

Calling him back, he wasn't entirely surprised when no one picked up. He was sure it was deliberate, that Brendan had his phone on him and was able to answer, but was choosing not to. Maybe it was like some form of punishment, of Brendan saying loud and clear that he wasn't just going to wait all night for him to call him, that he had better things to be doing.

Sighing, Ste waved goodbye to Doug as he took off his apron and made his way over to the club. He'd installed a strict "No visiting the deli" policy on Brendan. He didn't want Doug to have to deal with the hassle of it, not after what he'd already put him through. Besides, Ste found himself increasingly unable to resist Brendan's advances these days. Even a public kiss inevitably turned into something more, Ste's fingers once reaching underneath Brendan's shirt during a rather embarrassing encounter with Darren Osborne.

Chez Chez was relatively quiet, still hours from opening time. He saw Ash chatting to Cheryl by the bar, and nodded over to them. Passing boxes piled near the sofa, he reached Brendan's office and knocked twice. When he got no reply, he opened the door, expecting to find it empty.

A man with a tape recorder and notepad was sitting opposite Brendan, and they both turned when Ste entered. The man turned the tape off, and looked from Ste to Brendan.

"Sorry, are you an employee, or...?"

"Ex employee," Ste spat out.

The man was young, no older than twenty five Ste was guessing. He had dirty blond hair and was slim, with honey coloured skin. Exactly Brendan's type, Ste noted with growing irritation.

"Right, well...we can do this another time, if you want?" the man asked, turning to Brendan.

Brendan nodded, dismissing him with a single flick of his hand.

The man squeezed past, Ste allowing him little room for leverage.

When the door closed, Ste faced Brendan, eyebrows raised.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Did you not get my call?"

Brendan scoffed. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I was at work."

"Yeah. An hour late."

"I was dealing with deliveries! It wasn't my fault."

"And you couldn't have let Douglas sort it out? What do you pay him to do, stand there and whine all day?"

Ste felt anger bubbling up in him. He was tired from being on his feet all day, and the last thing he wanted to do was argue. All he wanted was to go back to Brendan's flat, go to his bedroom, close the curtains and have sex with him. He wanted them to order a chinese, and eat it in bed together, maybe watch some television. Just normal things that Ste had wanted to do with Brendan since he could remember, and had finally been able to when they'd become a proper couple.

He was also determined not to feel like the bad guy in all this, even if that didn't go along with his desire to keep the peace.

"Doug can't do everything, Brendan! We're in this business together."

"Together." He said it like it was acid stuck on his tongue.

The last thing Ste was concerned with right then was Doug.

"Who was that guy, anyway?"

Brendan looked confused.

"What guy?"

"The one who just left."

Brendan frowned, looking genuinely mystified. He started at the door, as if in an attempt to remember.

"What - him? He's a journalist from the Chester Herald."

Ste remembered the tape and writing paper, but still couldn't shake it off.

"So what's he doing here, eh? Just happened to want an interview with you?"

He didn't think he was imagining the look of bafflement and amusement on Brendan's face.

"He's doing a piece on the club. Cheryl thought it might be good to get some more publicity. This place hasn't exactly been doing brilliantly this past year, not after Silas. Funnily enough not many people want to come to a village where a serial killer lived."

He said it softly, as if he was trying to be as sensitive as possible. They rarely talked about Silas. After Ste not believing him over Rae's murder, they tried to keep that firmly in the past. Those months in prison when Brendan had had no contact with Ste had been hell, and talking about it was the last thing either of them wanted to do.

"Oh," Ste said quietly. He realised his fear over Brendan and some random guy was even more stupid than Brendan's jealousy over him and Doug. Ste was well aware that Brendan had been with other men while they'd been apart. He'd asked Brendan point blank just before they'd got together, and he'd told him.

"They're nothing. Nothing compared to you, and nothing on their own."

Ste had believed him, because at the back of his mind he'd felt with perfect conviction and clarity that no one and nothing could come between them anymore. Ste had never seen Brendan look at anyone the way he looked at him, and whilst the idea of Brendan having sex with other men made him more jealous than he'd known he could be, he understood why he had done it. Ste had needed to replace Brendan in his heart, and Brendan had needed to replace Ste in his bed. It was the way they had worked separately, but together there was never anyone who could give them what the other could.

"Right. Sorry." Ste hated being the one who apologised first, especially when he felt he'd done nothing wrong. He waited impatiently for Brendan to return the apology.

When Brendan continued to stare at him from behind his desk, Ste wondered if he was being purposefully dense.

"So what, you're not even going to say sorry?"

Brendan stood up slowly. "For what, Steven?"

Ste was fast losing his patience. "For ignoring my call!"

"I was busy."

"No, you wanted to get back at me! Look, I did nothing wrong! I was late, it wasn't my fault. And now you're giving me the silent treatment?"

"I'm talking, aren't I?"

"You're being cold, though!"

Ste would have called this normal behaviour a year ago, perhaps even polite for Brendan. But these days he would catch Brendan smiling at him when he thought he wasn't looking. He'd laugh at Ste's jokes, however terrible they were. Coldness was no longer part of Brendan's demeanor, not when it came to him. Ste couldn't face being shut out from his warmth.

"Fine, you know what, forget about it! I'm going home."

"Wait -"

He heard footsteps as he was at the door. Brendan had rose from behind the desk, clearly unable to resist stopping him from leaving.

"No, why should I?"

Ste knew he was being unreasonable now. He had been unfair to Brendan. He knew how worried he must have been, Ste working late with Doug, not answering his calls. The fact that Brendan didn't bother him during the day, and respected his decision to have contact with his ex was massive, something that Ste sometimes forgot to appreciate.

Ste wasn't angry with him for being possessive. He was angry with himself about his own need for Brendan. It scared him sometimes, how much he hated Brendan being around other men. He had never told him how he'd been unable to relax at home with Amy and the kids in the evening, for fear of Brendan meeting some guy at Chez Chez, and being tempted. He'd had to fight with himself not to ring him, not wanting to come across as clingy and overbearing. Even being away from Brendan for a night made him ache with need, and as good as Brendan made him feel, sometimes he wished he didn't make him feel that way. Often Ste wondered if it was possible to love someone too much.

"Steven!"

Brendan raised his hand, meaning to reach out behind Ste to rest it on the wall behind him, to back him against it and kiss him, as a means of keeping him there and ending this pointless argument.

His hand froze in midair, and Brendan turned white in an instant, as though he had seen a ghost.

Ste looked at him, shocked. Brendan looked like he was going to throw up, and Ste had no idea why.

"What's wrong?" All of his anger had dissipated into nothing, nothing but concern for the man standing in front of him.

"You flinched."

They stared at each other, neither saying a word for a moment. All that could be heard was the sound of Cheryl and Ash laughing outside, beer bottles lightly banging.

"You thought I was going to hit you."

It wasn't a question.

Before Ste could utter a word, Brendan had thrown open the door and disappeared down the stairs, leaving Ste standing alone, rubbing his cheek as if a bruise had already begun to form.

Brendan had given Ste a key to get into the flat. Just incase you want to come over in the night. He'd raised his eyebrows devilishly, that suggestive smirk on his face.

Ste had imagined him using it to sneak in and surprise Brendan, doing his best not to wake Cheryl or Joel. He'd thought of all the occasions when he'd use the key.

Never had he thought he'd use it for this.

Letting himself in, his eyes adjusted to the light. The curtains were drawn, and while there was still sufficient light, it was in stark contrast to the heat and almost cloudless sky outside.

Brendan was lying on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't make a movement when Ste entered. It was as if no one was there at all.

Ste slowly approached him. He could almost feel the sadness coming from him in waves, and he needed to make it stop. He couldn't stand it when Brendan was sad.

Is that what love is? When someone else's pain becomes your own?

Sitting on the arm of the sofa, Ste reached out a hand and stroked Brendan's cheek. Touching Brendan always comforted him, however small the action. It felt right somehow.

Brendan closed his eyes against the movement. Ste was relieved that he made no attempt to push him away.

"I didn't mean to flinch, you know."

"So it was unconscious? That doesn't make it better. It means you're afraid of me and you don't even know it."

Ste shook his head, even though Brendan couldn't see him.

"I'm not scared of you."

"We were barely even arguing, and you thought I was going to..."

"Shhhhh."

Ste moved so that he was facing Brendan, and climbed on top of him. Brendan opened his arms willingly and scooped Ste up into them, his mouth resting against Ste's hair.

"It's just going to take time. All of this."

Ste knew that better than anyone. It had taken Amy years to properly trust him again. Previously she'd used to cower if he'd raised his voice, and he'd seen her retreat into herself if he'd come too close. These days that fear was gone, no trace of it left behind. She trusted him implicitly. Ste knew one day he'd be the same with Brendan.

"I just...I wish it had never..."

"I know."

They lay like that for a while. Sometimes it was what they enjoyed the most, their legs entwined, so close they could feel each others heartbeats.

Sometimes they thought that they were the only two people in the world who completely understood each other. Perhaps if things had been different, if Ste had never known what it was like to have that kind of rage, to experience that kind of darkness, then he would never have been able to forgive Brendan's actions.

They had both wished so many times that the circumstances had been different, that not everything had been so screwed up, so seemingly unrepairable at times. Ste had cried himself to sleep in the past, wishing that Brendan loved him the right way, whatever that meant. Brendan had found himself in other men's beds, wishing with all of his strength that they could be Steven, or that he could forget the boy altogether, as if he had never existed.

The way they felt for each other frightened them, because there was no end or a beginning. They would die for each other, they would kill for each other, and this wasn't something that they could ever explain or justify to other people. They didn't know if they got a happy ending, because that was something that seemed confined to fairy tales and storybooks. But they couldn't ever see what they had coming to an end.

They could have talked about the way Ste had flinched when Brendan had raised his hand all night. They could have discussed what this meant, whether it affected them, whether it was something they'd ever truly move past. They could have talked about Brendan's distrust of Doug, of Ste's fear of Brendan finding someone younger, more exciting, more intelligent.

But as they held each other on the sofa, Ste's words still echoed in both their ears.

"It's just going to take time. All of this."