A/N: Short and pointless, but written in an attempt to cheer myself and others up. Plotless fluff.

Peckish

"What you doing?" Ste asked, appearing as if from nowhere and hugging himself for extra heat. It wasn't warm enough to be wandering around the house in boxers and a t-shirt in the early hours.

Brendan, head still in the fridge, mumbled something about needing something to eat.

Ste hoisted himself up until he was sitting on the edge of the counter top.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Brendan asked, creeping out of the fridge and leaning on the door. He held an egg in his hand, the start of his culinary creation.

Ste shrugged, "Dunno. You're not,"

A look passed Brendan's face, his tired eyes might have revealed more if he hadn't been so good at living a double life. He rooted around in the fridge again.

Ste watched him and waited for his head to pop up again before his eyes softened and he was left with a smile that had curled corners. "Leave the food. Come back to bed,"

He sighed. He was somehow calmer when he was tired, but that didn't stop his frustration. He started taking things out of the fridge and lining them up on the counter next to Ste.

"Aren't you cold?" Ste asked, eyeing up the length of Brendan's body as he stood, underwear only, in the cold glow.

"Stephen you can cook right?"

"A bit," Ste said, looking between the line-up of items and Brendan.

He smirked at that. "I thought you were a chef,"

"Tony did most of the work,"

"Maybe I'll give Tony a call then yeah?" he teased. He outstretched his arm, fingertips on Ste's cheekbone. He pushed Ste's face until it faced the food collection next to him. "What can you do with this?"

Brendan watched him cook. It dawned on him when Ste had his tongue poked out happily, throwing eggs into the frying pan, that he liked watching him cook. He stood apart from him, eyes firmly darting between hands and arse. He had more than his fair share of attractions.

Ste pulled a face when he watched how greedily, messily Brendan ate. But he saw it as a compliment that he barely came up for air as he scoffed the omelette. With a satisfied release of breath, Brendan flung the plate into the sink where the pan soaked. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and watched Ste roll his eyes.

"And there was me thinking your talents were confined to one room of the house," he said, snaking his way closer to Ste, whose arms gradually unfolded.

"Yeah?" Ste said, with his head held teasingly defiant. His teeth bit at his bottom lip.

He was tantalising close now, he pinched the hem of Ste's t-shirt between two fingers.

"Maybe I'm talented in every room," Ste said, in a rare moment of confidence. He barely ever had the guts to say what he really wanted, to make any sort of moves on Brendan. He was the one waiting, agonisingly teased but always trying to say patient and neutral until Brendan wanted him to respond.

"Hm," Brendan said, head tilting to one side. Normally his dark stare would have made Ste back track, cool off and let him lead, but Brendan was a different creature in the night – sleepy, spent, softer. "You think very highly of yourself doncha?"

Ste ran his tongue over his bottom lip, leaving it glisten when he smiled. "You could always prove me wrong,"

Brendan enjoyed the wild cockiness in his eyes. Within seconds, he'd tugged Ste's shorts down to his knees and had his hands either side of his face, spiking his hair between his fingers. Their mouths met somewhere in the middle, heat spilling between parted lips and Brendan was pulling and pushing him until he was sprawled out on the sofa. Scatter cushions thrown all over the floor and his head bent back right over the arm, Ste felt the blood spin in his head and his vision go hazy as Brendan stripped bare and laid on top.

Brendan drowned the crook of Ste's neck in kisses, his facial hair leaving lingering burns. He felt Ste's body shake beneath him and heard a laugh escape him.

"I'm always right me," he said, lifting up his head and letting Brendan lull him into another kiss, top lip sucked and licked.