A/N: Ste is 14, nearly 15 in this fanfiction – year 10 – and Brendan is 26. His children are younger too. I know this has been done before but I haven't read it (I don't read much fanfiction) and I've had this drafted and planned for about a year now ;) I used to be BeccaBrady but I changed it because I wanted to reinvent myself as a writer.

This chapter is short in comparison to the lengths that I'm aiming for the others to be. Enjoy.

Monday, September 3rd. Approximately 7:30am. He was on time. Just.

He checked himself. Jacket? Check. Coat? Check. Gloves? Check. Scarf? Check. Briefcase? Check. Car keys? Check. He was ready.

Brendan took one last look in the mirror and smoothed down his moustache, clearing his throat. He brushed his fingers through his hair and inspected his reflection, fixing any loose hairs that escaped his neatly styled black hair. The hallway he was stood in was wide and far too neat for his liking but considering he wasn't the one who kept on top of it, he didn't really mind. The golden framed mirror hung neatly, perfectly, on the cream wallpaper and the laminated wood flooring was smooth beneath his shoes. He took a step away from the mirror and went to pick up his briefcase from the small desk in the hallway that held a few photos and a small decorative plant. He nodded to himself, reassuring himself for his big day and took a deep breath. As he inhaled, the familiar voice snapped from the kitchen behind him, exasperation clear in their voice.

"For God's sake, Deccy, will you put that down?" Her voice was sharp, tired. "Wait, Paddy, can ye just…"

Before her sentence was even finished, Brendan glanced down at the little four year old boy running in and out of the older man's legs, making airplane noises as he did so. Brendan laughed and bent down, picking the boy up. The little boy made no attempt to wriggle out of his grasp; he seemed happy and comfortable in his father's arms.

"Are ye misbehaving for yer Ma, eh, Paddy?" He smiled and Padraig pouted, shaking his head, trying hard to look innocent but the mischief shone in his brown eyes. "Are ye being naughty…?"

Padraig laughed and hid his face in the crook of Brendan's neck, sniffling, just as Eileen exited from the kitchen, leaning in the doorway, looking tired. He glanced at her and smiled, receiving a weak smile back. She looked exhausted, clad in her turquoise pyjamas still, her face free of make-up and her hair un-styled and pushed back.

"Declan's got it into his head that he's some six year old master chef, trying to make his own bloody breakfast and he's spilling everything everywhere and Paddy won't put his goddamn shoes on and yer heading to work and I know it's yer first day but I'm meeting Sylvia about the job at the salon and I've still gotta do the school run and I just…" She trailed off, her frustration getting the better of her. She reached a shaky hand up and pushed back her loosely tied brown hair and shook her head.

He chuckled slightly and put Padraig back down on the floor, watching as he ran up the stairs, shouting random things to himself, making the airplane noises again as he went. He smiled fondly to himself; the kids were his life and soul. They kept him going. He'd been married to Eileen now for 6 years and although he never completely felt at home with his wife – for reasons he didn't want to think about – he was more than happy with his children. In all honesty, they were the reason he stuck around. He only took the job because he wanted to provide for his children and wanted to make sure they had a good life and a good education. He loved his wee boys and he'd go to hell and back if it meant making them happy.

Eileen, however, was a different story. He loved her, he guessed, but their relationship had always been hanging on by threads. He was always so busy, first with university and now his new job had crept up on him. It meant that, according to her, he had lost his romantic touch. He never found time to do things with her – he never took her to dinner anymore or swept her off her feet. But now that they'd been married for so many years, in all honesty, Brendan didn't have the effort to try. Not to mention, when she was always stressed and fretting over things that, in his eyes, were completely and utterly pointless, he didn't have much of a desire to do anything romantic with her. She was in one of those moods again. You know, the moods that women always seem to get in. The 'I have so much to do today with work and friends and the kids and oh I don't have the time and you're not helping at all' mood. Because it wasn't like it was his first day at work today and he needed to actually think about himself for once. But she was his wife, and he… loved her. It was his job to sort her out, right? He walked up to his wife and cupped her cheek.

"Don't worry about it… Calm yourself, Eileen…" He leaned in and kissed her softly before pulling back, smiling. "Now shut up and wish me luck."

She smiled softly. "Good luck, darling…"

He smiled back and grabbed his briefcase, before heading out of the door, his breath streaking across the air in front of him as he clambered into the driving seat of his Mercedes. September was too fucking cold in England, he thought, as he started his windscreen wipers, brushing the fine drizzle away from the glass.

The car slid effortlessly out of the driveway, it's silver body shining in the morning drizzle and fog as it slunk down the road and away from the quiet cul-de-sac where his semi-detached house stood proudly. Brendan yawned slightly and gazed, bored, out of the front window of his car. The weather was damp and miserable – just as he had expected but it was not helping to motivate him at all. Today was a big day for Brendan and safe to say, he was not really looking forward to it. The boring protocol of introducing himself to every new class and evaluating all his students in the first 20 minutes of each lesson. He had to learn the way the school worked, the way the students behaved and it was up to him to singlehandedly separate the no marks from the potential doctors and lawyers. All in one day.

He couldn't really remember, but he had heard that the woman he was taking over from had gone a bit doolally and therefore the job had fallen in his hands. So, the silver lining was, he didn't have very big shoes to fill. It was all still very daunting though but at least he had people to fall back on who he could familiarise himself with. Though he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

He turned onto the main road and shook his head at how he was overthinking things and decided to relax. So with that, he flicked the radio on, tapping the steering wheel rhythmically to the tune of God's Gonna Cut You Down. He was always a huge Johnny Cash fan and it was always the best tool when it came to calming himself down and getting himself into a zone where he felt prepared to take on anything. Even swarms of hormone riddled, spot covered idiots.

-OXO-

Ste blinked at his blurry reflection as he slowly dragged the toothbrush across his teeth, hardly aware of his actions. He was so tired and not in the mood at all. After six whole weeks of freedom (if such a thing existed in Ste's home), school felt like another universe. He spat the toothpaste into the chipped sink and rinsed, looking up at his reflection again. He yawned and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was. He dragged his feet across the tattered carpet that paved the hall to his bedroom and shoved his feet into his scuffed black trainers that poked out from beneath his grey trousers. He loosely fastened his tie around his neck and slung his rucksack over his shoulders, sniffing a bit. What was the point in getting up this early? Seriously? He wasn't going to learn anything anyway. Never did.

He trudged downstairs and into the smoky kitchen where Pauline – his mother – was sat, head leaning on the palm of her hand, an empty glass of water and a box of painkillers on the table in front of her. He went to the cupboard and swung it open, pulling out a packet of crisps and shoving a handful into his mouth. That would do for breakfast. He glanced at Pauline. Something in the house dripped monotonously and the chill of the outdoors somehow leaked in, biting his skin under his clothes ever so gently.

"Hangover?" He crunched, looking at her.

"Me head's killing me." She groaned. "Fill me water up for me, will ya, Ste?"

"I'll be late for school." He replied, with no intention of moving, not even to go to school. He appeared in no hurry and continued crunching loudly on the cheese and onion crisps, crossing his legs over as he leaned on the counter.

"Fuck off, you're not exactly in a rush. Just do it." She snapped slightly and he picked the glass up, filling it at the sink that was filled with dirty plates and bowls from weeks ago, before slamming it down on the table. "Do you have to be so fucking loud?!"

"Sorry…" He shrugged unapologetically, tipping the crumbs left in the packet into his mouth, not bothering to care when most of them missed his mouth and scattered across his 'white' (though it was more grey considering it had been worn so much) school shirt. "You said you'd go to the Job Centre today."

"Do I look fucking fit to go to the Job Centre?! I feel like I've got a fucking brain tumour." She shot him a dark look. The bags under her eyes were obvious and heavy and her face was creased with wrinkles that she was too young to have. Her greased hair was pulled back and tied up, though strands of it escaped here and there, as if she had been living on the streets for months.

"You said." He repeated, sighing to himself, scrunching the packet up and throwing it on the side.

He folded his arms and watched her. She was always like this. Never did anything, never stayed true to her word. In fact, Ste nearly laughed there and then. Not at her, but at himself. For believing her and actually giving her another chance. The crazy thing was, when she said she was going to go to the job centre, he actually felt a little hopeful, for once he actually thought that things were going to get better. He thought, for once, that they wouldn't be scrounging around for money and making cuts that weren't really possible. Living on benefits was something that Ste was sick of and the worst part was that any money they did have never went to refurbishing their decrepit house or stocking their practically bare cupboards. It was always spent on things that were far less important to Ste. The same couldn't be said for his mother, though.

"I know what I said!" She shook her head. "Terry's gonna look for a job tomorrow anyway."

"Terry's always looking for a job." Ste folded his arms and scuffed his trainers against the floor softly. "Thought he were gonna fix the heating tomorrow anyway? It's freezing…"

"All you do is fucking complain, Steven Hay!" She glared. "Get to school before Terry comes home. You know if he…"

"I know." Ste cut her off. He didn't need to hear anymore. He pushed himself off the counter and walked out of the damp council flat, slamming the door behind him, shivering as the cold hit him.

His mother was a lowlife and downright wasted her life away. She was a pure disappointment and had never really managed to make Ste proud to call her his mother. But then there was Terry, his stepfather, and he was a completely different story. He wasn't just someone who leeched off benefits and lay about all day. He wasn't a 'nice' person, so to speak. Ste knew that Terry was one of the main reasons why his mother was the way she was but she would never get shot of him in a million years, no matter how many times she had promised him when he was a little boy.

He shivered and pulled his burgundy blazer tightly around him to protect himself from the chill drizzle and the frosty air. He pulled out his cheap mp3 player (that he used to insist was just the beginning of his technological collection to his 'friends' when in fact he only had a second hand mobile phone that Pauline had forced him to have in case she needed him to come home when Terry was going off on one) and plunged the headphones into his ears, drowning out the irritating sound of cars and morning chatter with some dubstep blaring into his ears. One of his best friends was a Cheryl Cole fan and the other was a Kylie fan and he had to admit, they were some good tunes but he wouldn't be caught dead with those on his mp3 player. Terry would have him for breakfast if he found out.

He saw the looming figure of the high school above him and he fell into its shadow, sighing to himself as he heard the school bell, realising that no matter how much he rushed, he was going to be late to his form anyway. Not like it mattered to him. School was just a formality and if he had any choice in the matter he'd rather give it up and do nothing with his time. Then again, the one thing he could say was that school was… an escape, if you like. It meant he could get away from his parents, even if it was only for a few hours but nevertheless it was something, right?

With that he slunk to his locker and swung his bag into it, deciding it wasn't really that necessary for the rest of his lessons anyway and slammed it shut, his trainers scuffing against the worn light blue vinyl flooring. He was really really not in the mood for double maths and then geography. Really.

-OXO-

Brendan's first day at Hollyoaks High School was going surprisingly well. So far he'd had to control an excitable group of Year 8's, which was an easy job, and then soothe a class of petrified Year 7's who were as new to this school as Brendan was. Though Brendan knew from what he'd been told and what his school days were like that the first day of the school year was an illusion. Everyone was settling back into routine and classes were usually fairly laid back. Besides, it was the older years you always had to watch out for and Brendan wasn't exactly looking forward to it. Hollyoaks High was kind of a 'every student is welcome' school, meaning there were a fair few bad apples among the school, something which didn't exactly have Brendan jumping for joy.

It was break time and, as embarrassing as it was, he'd spent it hiding away in his room as opposed to going down to the staff room. He wasn't ready for the meeting and greeting, the monotonous and fake introductions and politeness. He wasn't really looking forward to meeting all the other teachers as he was sure they were all going to be a set of self-absorbed, well educated, smartly dressed pricks. Of course, on the surface, Brendan came across as very similar. He had a strong set of High School qualifications, 3 good a-levels and a prestigious degree in Geography to his name but it counted for nothing in sense of personality. Sure, he even spent his days when he wasn't at work clad in an expensive suit but he always liked to think of himself as very laid back. He wasn't much of a fan of education and it wasn't something he held as a badge of honour like everyone else. It was just something he went off and did to get by. So he didn't end up putting cardboard boxes together or standing, brain-dead, in the dole queue. Not to mention he had kids he had to do proud and a very expectant family to please.

If he had his way, teaching wouldn't be his career path at all. As a child, he'd wanted to jet off across the world, exploring and travelling as a great pilot or maybe even stand behind a bar in a local boozer and be the pillar of the community, watching different sorts of people come and go, listening in to them gossiping about their lives or complaining about their bitchy wives. He got to see new people; day in day out with the exception of a few regulars longing for some kind of relief from their home life that Brendan would feel obliged to be able to grant them. Instead, he had ended up here, lecturing children about the formation of rivers and the causes of volcanoes. It was boring and it was laughable. But it was money, so he couldn't exactly complain.

Next period he'd have to deal with the Year 10 class who were just starting their GCSE course, a task Brendan was sure he was going to find ever so slightly challenging. Then again, he was the teacher and they could think again if they thought they could outsmart him like they had the woman who had his job beforehand. Rumour had it that she'd had a minor breakdown inside the school after a bunch of Year 11's started throwing food at her. At least that's what the receptionist told him. That was the beauty of knowing the receptionist like he did, he got all the inside gossip. Then again, it was his connections within the school that got him the job anyway, not like he was particularly looking forward to the student's reactions when they finally put two and two together.

He leaned back in his chair and swung his feet up on the desk, enjoying the last 5 minute silence of his break before the bell rang and the Year 10 students came pouring into his class, chattering away.

They whispered in hushed voices as they saw Brendan sat behind the desk, evaluating their new teacher as they walked in. They all arranged themselves in seats just as Brendan got to his feet. He cleared his throat and surveyed the sea of spotty, lifeless faces in front of him and sighed. Joys. They looked as if they were studying him just as much as he was them though.

"Okay, class… I'm your teacher from now on since your last teacher is now somewhat…incapable." He drawled slowly, pausing slightly. There was a wave of chatter as the students gossiped slightly but Brendan silenced them with a tiny slam of a whiteboard pen on his desk. He couldn't be arsed to sit and listen to meaningless teenage rumours.

"My name is…" He scribbled on the whiteboard. "Mr. Brady."

"Brady?" One of the students called out. "Anything to do with the headteacher, Sir?"

"I think that's irrelevant, don't ye?" He replied coldly. Not today, please. "So, class, I'll be–"

He was cut off by the click of the classroom door and a young boy walked in, tie hanging loose, shirt un-tucked and a pair of black scuffed trainers on his feet. He went to walk through the classroom but Brendan stopped him in his tracks by placing two fingers on his chest. He needed to make an impression whilst he could.

"You're late." He told the boy, not even looking at him.

"I know…"

No apology? He glanced at the student. His skin was slightly golden and his brown hair was messy. A good looking lad compared to the acne riddled faces in front of him. He seemed bored and uninterested by Brendan's attempt to scold him and glanced away from Brendan's gaze, sighing heavily. He was clearly used to this…

"What's your name?" He asked him, evaluating the boy. He was one of those little shits that was going to cause him trouble, he could tell.

"Ste." The boy replied bluntly.

"Okay, Steven…" He nodded slightly. "Sort your uniform out and sit down. You can come and see me at lunchtime and make up for the time you missed."

"Oh, come on, mate…" Steven started. "And it's Ste…"

"I'm not your mate. I'm Mr. Brady, as in your teacher. I'm sure you can manage. Or just 'Sir' will do if you can't manage more than one syllable."

There was a slight ripple of laughter in the class. It wasn't warm, it wasn't friendly… it was mocking. They were mocking this… boy. Steven flushed ever so slightly but managed to compose himself. He gave Brendan an irritated look and then slunk to his seat next to a petite pretty blonde girl, smartening his uniform as he did so.

"Good boy." Brendan watched him. If this boy was going to cause him trouble, then so be it. He could handle it. The challenge could be fun.

-OXO-

Hope you liked Chapter 1.

There is a lot more to follow :)