'… has been caught, catch…. Here,' Ste nudged his boyfriend with his elbow. 'What does that say?'

'I'm working, Steven,' Brendan replied. He had accounts to go over. They should have been done days ago, but he worked with imbeciles so once again he was sat in bed with his boyfriend on one side and a calculator the other planning to work into the night.

'Aw, come on, just one word,' Ste moaned and suddenly Brendan's view was completely obscured by the magazine, which was being pushed against his nose.

'Well I can't very well read it from there, can I?'

Ste pulled the magazine back to a more sensible distance and Brendan could see the glossy, tacky article in all its glory. Next to it, Ste was pulling the expression he sometimes used as a substitute for "pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease".

'Which word?' Brendan sighed.

'That one.'

'Cautioned,' Brendan said quickly, though he couldn't help notice that the word was in the first line of the article. He could only imagine how many more times the dictionary of Brendan Brady would be called upon before Ste had finished reading.

'Cautioned,' Ste repeated, before continuing: 'For possible, passion … here, I need your help again.'

Brendan held back a groan of despair as he put down his accounts for a second and peered over at the article again.

'Possession.'

'Possession of drugs,' Ste finished, letting the magazine fall to his lap. 'Here, Bren. Did you know Justin Bieber had been cautioned for possession of drugs?'

'Has he?' Brendan asked, not quite able to fight down a smirk as he desperately tried to focus on the numbers ahead of him.

'Oh, right,' Ste laughed a little embarrassedly. 'Just got you to read it, didn't I?'

'Hmmm,' was the only response Brendan could manage. There were too many numbers in his head for him to worry about forming words.

'You've probably already read it anyway though, haven't you?'

'You know me, Steven, I can't get through a day without my fix of...' He reached over to move the magazine in a way that would allow him to read the name off the cover. 'Heat,' he finished.

'You're trying to be sarcastic though, aren't you?' Ste said, pointing an accusatory finger at him. 'But I know you do read them, in secret like.'

'I don't,' Brendan said. He'd gone back to pretending his main focus was on the accounts. That wasn't true, Ste was always his main focus, all the time, no matter what.

'Whatever,' Ste shot back immediately. Brendan snapped his head around to look at his boyfriend. He looked a ridiculous kind of handsome when he was feeling indignant. Especially with the low light from the bedside lamp and his bare chest peering over the top of the duvet. He was like a deliciously wrapped present and Brendan could feel lust creeping up inside him. Maybe that's why his next sentence came out in a low, strangled whisper:

'Are you calling me a liar … Steven?'

'No,' Ste shook his head. He looked nervous and excited at the same time as Brendan began to move towards him. 'I'm just asking, how do they get in the house, right? 'Cause I don't buy 'em.'

'Maybe it's Chez.' Brendan gave half a shrug. It wasn't a very plausible answer. Why would Cheryl buy magazines and leave them at their house? But from the look in Ste's eyes and the way his gaze kept flicking to Brendan's lips the older man didn't think he was in any position to notice the lie.

They locked lips suddenly. The kiss was slow at first but it built and built. Their kisses always did. Ste had this way of kissing that made you want to rip all his clothes off. He was so open, so giving but most of all … there was passion. There had always been passion. Brendan remembered the times he'd seen Ste with Noah or Doug. He remembered dark moments when he thought he'd lost the love of his life forever and then he'd see Ste kiss his new bloke and Brendan would know he still had a chance. It was like watching a limp handshake, there was no fight, no need, no desperation. No passion.

'I love you,' Brendan said suddenly, breaking the kiss.

'You too,' Ste whispered, back. He sounded breathless, ready for more. Wasn't he always?

'But I got to get back to the accounts.'

'Aww. But I thought we was just getting started,' Ste whined. He was pulling the face he always pulled when he wanted something. Brendan almost always gave in these days, but not now. The accounts had to come first or they'd be kicked out of their fancy new house and then Ste really would have something to whine about.

'Don't you think I'd rather be doing that with you?' he said, giving his boyfriend a final peck on the lips. 'But I can't. I need to get this done.'

Ste stropped, crossing his arms and sticking his bottom lip out but Brendan couldn't help but notice how quickly Ste had got over his apparent depression when he discovered the forgotten magazine had fallen open on "The Ring of Doom" or "The Circle of Shame" or whatever hell Heat were calling it these days.

Now all Brendan had to put up with were Ste's stifled giggles as he worked his way through the embarrassing pictures of celebrities with huge sweat patches or bad hair days or unfortunate facial expressions. Still, he'd shut up for a few minutes, which meant Brendan could actually get on with his number crunching. Or not...

'Bren…. Bren…. Brendan!'

'Hmm?' Brendan half responded, trying not to lose grip on the endless numbers he was storing in his head.

'What's this mean?

'One minute,' he muttered, writing down a couple of notes for himself before turning towards Ste and that bloody magazine. He read the headline in his head "Ed Sheeran puts on at impromptu gig in Leicester Square."

'Erm,' Brendan thought for a second. 'It just means the gig wasn't planned.'

'What? Spur-of-the-moment, like?'

'Yeah, that's a good way of describing it.'

'Oh,' Ste looked back at his article for a second. 'I'd do that all the time if I was famous, me.'

'Do what?' Brendan asked. His head wasn't really in the conversation and Ste would know that. It wouldn't stop him talking though. Not much did.

'Impromptu shows. Free shows all over the place, I'd be dead impromptu-ous.'

'Impromptu-ous,' Brendan questioned with a slight quirk of his eyebrow.

'Oh,' Ste frowned. 'Can you not say that?'

'You can say whatever you like, Steven,' Brendan assured him. He could feel tiredness beginning to pull at him. If he didn't get these accounts finished soon his sleepy brain would make all kinds of mistakes and he couldn't imagine the hell he'd get if he accidentally underpaid someone or screwed up an order. 'Can I go back to my work now … please?'

'Yeah, course.' And after a second, he added: 'Sorry.'

Brendan dropped his work to his lap immediately. 'You don't need to be sorry, Steven.'

'Nah, I know but … well. It's just…' He seemed embarrassed, head dipped refusing eye-contact. That wasn't like him. 'You must think I'm well thick.'

'I don't think that,' Brendan said honestly. He wanted to sigh, he wanted to shake Ste. It annoyed him so much when Ste put himself down.

'I am though, aren't I?' He groaned. 'I mean, look at us. You're doing all this adding up and hard maths and that. And I can't even read an article in "Heat" without your help.'

'Well then it's a good job I'll always be around then,' Brendan reached over and planted a kiss on his cheek. Ste just shrugged away.

'What if I don't always want your help?'

'I'm gonna try not to be offended there, Steven,' Brendan frowned. Double checking his figures. Had he really spent that much on Bailey's? He couldn't even remember the last time someone had ordered it.

'No.' Ste touched his arm suddenly. He was needy tonight. 'What I mean is: I'm running the deli on me own now, right. I should be able to read some words and do numbers and that.' He snatched Brendan's clipboard away suddenly and squinted at it, before practically throwing it back.

'Hey,' Brendan warned, re aligning the sheets. 'Careful.'

'Sorry,' he apologised quickly. Before continuing with his rant: 'But that might as well be in Welsh.'

'Welsh?'

'Used to go there on me holidays, didn't I?' He was smiling a little. 'Never knew what anyone was saying over there, me. It's all….' Ste made a series of bizarre throaty noises that he obviously thought imitated Welsh to illustrate his point.

'Right,' Brendan drawled. He didn't really know where to go with Ste's "Welsh noises" so he ignored them and said: 'Well, the accounts will be easier at the deli. You don't turn over as much as the club. Profit margins will be easier to work out because you're the only one working there at the moment. Expenses are all worked out for you by the supplier, though you'll want to check them.'

'See, this is what I'm talking about.'

'What is?'

'I didn't understand a single word you just said.'

'I can teach you, Steven.'

'Or I could join…. No never mind.' Once again Ste was shaking his head and seeming dejected.

'What?'

'Don't matter. You'll think it's stupid.'

'Never.' He'd never said anything as honestly.

'I was just gonna say I could join an evening class, but it was just stupid, they probably wouldn't take me anyway.'

'What are you saying?' Brendan asked. He put his accounts on the side table. They could wait until tomorrow morning … sort of. 'Course they'd take you. 'Course they would.'

Ste shook his head again. Brendan couldn't remember the last time Ste was so defeatist. He didn't like it.

'Hey. Hey.' He caught Ste's shaking head with his hands and held him so their eyes met. 'You're a bright lad, Steven. You listening to me? You set up your own business, you're running the place by yourself. You made up your own recipes and fought off all the competition.' He could see a smile starting to pull at Ste's lips; thank god! 'People have gone to Oxford and not managed to build a successful business that continues to be successful. So you go to evening classes if you want to, go back to college. You'll be the only one there who's proved how smart he is in the real world,' he finished, glad to see that Ste was smiling, if only for a second.

'You really think so?'

'Course I do.'

But it didn't take long for Ste to start shaking his head again.

'That don't matter though anyway. I don't have the money for it.'

'I do.'

'No. I'm not asking you to do that.'

'You're not, I'm offering. What's mine is yours?'

'Really?'

'Yeah, of course.' Brendan almost felt offended that Ste would think any differently but any disgruntled thoughts were expelled as Ste reached across and placed a passionate kiss on his lips.

'We're like an old married couple, aren't we?' He grinned when he finally pulled away.

'Mmm,' Brendan hummed. The less said on that subject, the better as far as he was concerned and his face must have been giving him away. That or Ste could read him like a book as he said:

'Don't worry, Brendan. I wasn't proposing.'

'Good,' Brendan nodded. 'Good.' But something he was ignoring in his gut was telling him that maybe that wasn't as good as he was insisting.

'I'm just asking you to love me … forever.'

'I do. I will,' Brendan said, reaching across to hold Ste's hand. It fitted well in his. He'd begun to learn that fact every time Ste grabbed it when they were out together. He'd pulled away a few times, which had prompted a minor tantrum and a rant of: "Everyone knows about us anyway" and from then on, Brendan had just held his hand when he wanted to. And he liked it. He was proud of Ste, he wanted to show him off to the world and show the world that Ste was taken. 'You're the only one that's mattered, Steven,' he said honestly, staring down at their clasped hands. 'You know that.'

'You too,' Ste grinned. He looked young when he grinned, beautiful even. Brendan wondered why Ste was with him at times like this. He was in his thirties, jaded and broken, but Ste always looked at him like he was a god, like he was this perfect being and Brendan had vowed long ago to one day be worthy of that look.