Broken hearted over the most recent events on the main show (it left me with such a nasty feeling alongside annoyance) I decided to make myself feel better by reading fanfiction, including my own. You know things are bad when reading about attempted rape makes you feel better.

I noticed a lot of typos, so sorry, I've not added to it, just improved a little. Please enjoy.

Brendan had taken to hanging around outside Ste's flat.

He decided, as he shoved his now icy cold hands into his pockets, that it wasn't stalking if Stephen wanted him there. How could it be? He was just keeping an eye on him anyway. He had enough reasons to worry about Stephen, after all Silas, Warren and Danny had all shown themselves to be more than willing to hurt the boy. Brendan didn't want to look too deeply into the fact that they were all using Stephen to get to him. That was not a good place to go.

He had told Stephen that he loved him, but it wasn't really that simple. It wasn't a pure, beautiful selfless love. If it was, Brendan would be on the other side of the world by now. No, this was a desperate, passionate, all-consuming love, selfish and possessive. He couldn't live without Stephen. Prison had nearly killed him. He'd not managed more than a few days of separation voluntarily for… well longer than he dared contemplate.

As for Stephen wanting him there… Brendan didn't want to look at that too deeply either. Stephen really didn't know what he wanted. When Brendan had been cleared, Stephen had fallen into his arms like a starving man would on food. He'd cried away most of that night, clinging to Brendan like a lifeline. Brendan had almost laughed at how they were both behaving like soppy girls. The sex was like nothing they'd ever had before. Even Brendan would have struggled to call it fucking. It was definitely making love. Nothing animalistic about it. Nothing base. Nothing dirty.

The aftermath was what threw him. Stephen wanted nothing more to do with him. It was like he was too scared. He'd got up the next morning and run back to his. After a week of Stephen avoiding Brendan, and Brendan being completely bemused, Amy had come decided to take pity on him. Brendan could remember the conversation to the tiniest detail. After he'd made her tea, she jumped straight to business.

"Do you still love him?" she'd asked, in that infuriating 'I know what's going on here better than you do' voice of hers.

"You think I…" Brendan had mumbled, then forced a laugh.

She'd looked at him steadily, "I once told Ste you weren't capable of love, but I never believed you killed those women either. You had plenty of opportunities to hurt me, and reasons, but you never did. Hurting women, that isn't your style, is it?"

Brendan had visibly flinched. The implication that there were plenty of things that were his style was heavy in the air. Then she'd explained how Stephen felt, about why he'd not even tried to visit him in prison, who Stephen actually blamed for Rae's death.

And since then Brendan had been doing this. When he knew Amy wasn't in, or he thought he'd seen Stephen winding someone up, or just when he himself felt lonely, he'd stand here, eyes on the net curtains, half hidden in the shadows. Waiting for Stephen to be ready

Ste peered through the curtains into the darkness that spread out past the orange glow radiating from his kitchen window. He knew Brendan was there again. He could only really make out the figure – tall, slim but muscular, thankfully rid now of that awful beard. The tash rash was bad enough. Well not really bad, not any more. In fact, he really missed the tash rash when it wasn't there. Ste wondered what that said about his mental health; that he missed physical discomfort just because it came from…

Ste felt like hitting his own head against a nearby table. Another ridiculous example of his own mental problems. Brendan Brady was not someone to miss! He may as well miss being beaten up. So Brendan hadn't killed Rae, he had threatened her, terrified her, set her up with enough drugs to get locked up for a very long time. And so, he'd believed Brendan was guilty quicker than Cheryl or Amy. He didn't have the comfort they had. He knew Brendan was capable of murder.

"But that was different" an annoying little voice in his head reasoned. It was like when he'd understood Brendan selling drugs and using Carmel when it was to pay for Declan's treatment. Brendan protected the people he loved. Part of him understood that now he, Ste Hay, was one of those people. He was someone Brendan Brady loved and protected.

Ste growled to himself, pleased Amy and the kids weren't around to hear that aggression from him. He hoped they'd never experience aggression from anyone ever again, least of all him. He should probably stay away from Brendan if that was going to happen.

Brendan realised he was fantasising again. What was it about this boy, who a rational part of him knew was just a scrawny chav, that made him, Brendan Brady, behave like a love-sick teenager? He should go home and give himself a smack, or maybe just find a rent boy to shag. He wondered vaguely if he could find Sean easily. Someone he could pretend was Stephen from behind.

He better just make sure Stephen was OK first.

The knock at the door took Ste by surprise. He was pretty sure Warren wasn't coming back, and Silas was definitely gone, but he knew they weren't the only people in the world to worry about. Of course, it was probably Brendan, finally bored of standing outside the flat, now ready to start bothering him again. Not that Ste really considered it bothering, never had really, and certainly not after that ridiculously quick reunion. How pathetic did he have to be to just to fall into the arms of that man again? No wonder Brendan thought it was still on.

The knock sounded again, impatient. That was very Brendan. His terms, his rules, his way. Well if Ste wasn't ready, Brendan would just have to wait, and when the knock came for a third time, Ste growled and decided to let Brendan know just that.

He threw the door open, starting to shout, but already realising that not even Brendan could get inside the block from the spot outside on the other side that quickly.

"All right Ste?" greeted the voice he'd managed to successfully avoid for over three years. It made his heart jump in fear, and guilt rip through him, that this man could just invade Amy's home, his kids' home, whenever he wanted, and it was only some sort of miracle that had kept him away for so long. Ste launched himself back at the door, trying to shut out the evil that had just arrived, to keep it away, however little time it could last.

Terry Hay had expected that though, and had his foot in the way before the door had even halfway closed. He used his body weight, still that much more than Ste's, to get the rest of himself into the flat, before closing the door himself.

"Hey calm down, son," he laughed, "anyone would think you didn't want a visit from your old man."

"What do you want, Terry?" Ste tried to demand. It came out more as a grumble.

"Oh that's charming that is, isn't it? No 'alright Dad, fancy a cuppa?'"

Ste looked at him, waiting for something, anything to get this over with. "Well?" he asked.

Terry looked about himself leisurely. "That stuck up little tart left you yet?"

Ste hesitated, uncertain how to deal with that question. Terry wasn't exactly the type of father figure he wanted to discuss even normal relationships with. The thought of Brendan and Terry in the same room was, quite simply, terrifying.

He settled for "None of your business!"

Terry beamed. "I'll take that as a yes then."

"What do you want? Why're ye here?" Ste hated how obvious the panic in his voice was. He was a grown up, a father, and here was this pathetic excuse for a man who could still make him feel like a scrawny school boy.

"Like I said, why shouldn't your old man just pay you a visit?" Terry picked up one of the kid's toys, examined it, then dropped in uncaringly.

Anger started to surface in Ste.

"Oh, I'll give you three guesses shall I?"

Terry ignored the words and their tone. "Why did the skinny, mousey one leave you then?"

Ste let some of his anger loose, "Can't you see all the kid's toys? Do you think I play with 'em?"

Terry, for once, looked a bit surprised. Ste smiled at his little victory. "Amy's taken the kids to see their granddad, the one that I'd actually trust to see 'em, so why don't you tell me what ye want and get lost?"

Terry looked at him levelly for a few moments.

"I lost me incapacity."

Ste rolled his eyes and groaned. Terry continued "So I thought, as we brought you up, fed you and clothed you fer God knows how long, ain't it time to give back, as they say?"

"Well, sorry Terry, but even if I wanted to help you, I couldn't, yeah? So just do one."

Ste barged past Terry, going to open the door, but probably should have known better. Terry grabbed his wrist, pulling it towards him before taking a finger. Ste felt the pain before he registered what Terry was doing.

"You know, if I broke a finger for each year you ate my food and slept in my house, you'd run out before I was done." He started carrying out the threat.

Ste cried out in pain.