This is a kind of weird chapter in that doesn't really fit in with the pace of the rest of the fic – it's kind of like an epilogue I guess. I hope you enjoy it anyway – it's the last chapter and the longest one I've ever written… I had a blast.

XOXOXOX

Ste stands on his own, feeling shy even though some of the faces around him are recognisable ones by now. There's the woman with the gold hoop earrings. She had a bruised face the first time Ste saw her here – three years ago - and she looked like she blamed the world for her injury; a right ball-buster. But then one time she asked Ste for a lighter and her voice was surprisingly gentle. He's liked her ever since, even though they don't talk to each other.

Her boyfriend must be being released today as well.

There's a frail-looking old lady waiting for her son. Ste sees her here often as well. One time she caused a scene in the visiting room – shouting and screaming at her son, "You're a fucking waste of space! Fuck off then, you waste of space!". The police had dragged her away and Ste had worried they'd break her bones just by touching her.

Brendan had just scoffed back a laugh, "She's damn right, he is."

He must be being released today as well.

The only other person Ste recognises is a young girl – eighteen max – who has the young boyfriend inside. A quick glance at him in the visitors room had told Ste he wouldn't last five seconds inside… his tiny frame and terrified expression. The next time Ste had seen him, he'd got a black eye and split lip.

He didn't have anybody to take the sentence for him. Not like Ste did.

That had been around a year ago, and Ste had asked Brendan about him and Brendan had shrugged, unbothered, "I dunno."

"He's been hurt."

"Lot of shit goes on in here, Steven."

But Ste had been bothered by it. Distracted even, despite him not having seen Brendan in four weeks. Brendan promised to look out for the boy after that, and Ste never saw bruising on his face again.

Ste smiles at the young 18-year-old girl now. She smiles back shyly.

"Your fella getting out today then?" She asks.

"Yeah." Ste smiles; a giddy, excited grin. He can hardly believe it himself. Tonight he will touch Brendan and kiss Brendan and make love to Brendan like he hasn't been able to in three years. "Yours?"

"Yeah." She nods, "S'weird, I've got used to having the bed all to myself now!"

Ste laughs and nods, "Yeah."

But he hasn't. He never got used to it. Not in the last three years, nor the three that Brendan was inside before that. And he can't wait to have Brendan's body pressed against his own again.

XOXOXOXOX

3 YEARS AGO

When he'd first read Brendan's letter it was like falling into a black pit. A pit of despair and horror and guilt and terror… because how was he going to cope with all this without Brendan? How could he go through it all again? How could he let Brendan go through it all again?

Memories came screaming back at him: filing for visiting orders that were promptly rejected, crying alone, sleeping with Walker, cutting his thighs, taking the drugs, servicing men. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't go through it again… now when he and Brendan were starting to get everything back together.

He was broken. He'd screamed at Cheryl, "how could you let 'im go?! HOW COULD YOU LET HIM DO IT?!", and Nate had dragged him into the kitchen and made him drink water and told him to rest… to sleep on it… before making any drastic decisions.

"Look, I don't know what's going on but this is what Brendan wanted." Nate had said, "He was very calm about the whole thing."

"No. No, I can't do this… I can't."

He says the same words now, one day later, FINALLY hearing Brendan's voice over the phone.

"I can't do this Brendan; I can't go through with it; I can't let you stay there!"

"Listen to me," Brendan's voice comes back through the receiver, "Listen to me Steven, I've spoken to the lawyer; he thinks it's going to be five years. Less, cos they reduce the sentence."

"Five years?! Will you LISTEN to yourself?! You're supposed to be HERE!" Ste wails, eyes streaming with tears, fist clenched to the phone, "You're supposed to be HERE with ME! Not there, AGAIN! Please!"

"Listen, LISTEN!" Brendan hisses. He's keeping his voice low because there's a queue of other prisoners close behind him waiting for the phone. Prisoners he'll end up fighting and fucking while Ste's left to rot again.

"No. No, I'm not doin' it. I'm tellin' the police the truth."

"No! What's that gonna do, huh? That's gonna make things WORSE, then we'll NEVER see each other – is that what you want?!"

"I'm not lettin' you stay in there, right?!" Ste cries, "You haven't done anything!"

"We both know I have."

"No, you've done your time already though."

"Steven," Brendan reasons, his voice soothing, "Steven – everything's gonna be okay. I'm gonna talk to you every day, okay, I swear. It's gonna be easier this time."

Ste hears voices in the background… shouts and jeers.

His knees seem to buckle underneath him so he can't even stand anymore… just sinks to the ground… eyes stinging from tears.

"I miss you." He croaks weakly. "I don't think I can do it."

He hears Brendan release a breath on the other end of the line… something that sounds a bit like pain.

"Wh… what are you sayin'? You don't wanna be with me?"

"No OF COURSE that's not what I'm sayin'! And will you stop talkin' like that; you're makin' yourself sound gay! You're invitin' trouble!"

What if the next time he sees Brendan his face is covered in cuts and bruises again, like the first time he went inside all those years ago? Ste wouldn't be able to bear it.

"I'm fine Steven, I know the blokes in here."

"Oh great." Ste spits sarcastically, "That's alright then."

"Yeah it is."

"Except IT ISN'T because you're supposed to be with ME! We're supposed to get married!"

"Steven my time is running out, okay? I'm gonna call you again tomorrow I just need you to promise you're gonna stay with Cheryl."

Ste grits his teeth – tries to stay silent so that Brendan doesn't hear him crying. Because he doesn't want Brendan to think he's sad now; he wants Brendan to know he's ANGRY.

"I'll never forgive you for this." He says, voice tight with emotion. "You can't just decide these things for me, it's not fair."

"I know." Brendan's voice sounds sad. Ste hates that even more.

They let it sit between them, silent.

"Steven, my time really is running out." Brendan says reluctantly.

Ste supposes there's nothing more he can say.

Nothing more he can do.

Brendan's taken it upon himself to make the decision for both of them, and that's it. He's gone from Ste's life again. Trapped behind bars where Ste can't touch him. When he needs him so badly, possibly now more than ever.

"Fine." He croaks shortly.

"I love you."

Ste says nothing… but only because he's crying so hard he can't take a breath. He just clenches his eyes and mouth shut; keeping his pain to himself.

"I'll speak to you tomorrow."

"Yeah." He says, strained.

And then the line goes dead. And Brendan's unobtainable again. And anything could happen to him between now and this time tomorrow, and Ste will never know about it.

XOXOXOXOX

The restaurant has been victim of an arson attack.

The police call him to tell him on the third day – his third day without Brendan.

Andy's friends have burnt it down, obviously. They probably hoped that Ste was inside. The irony being they've burnt every bit of evidence of what happened to Andy.

Ste still sees it – the blood. He wakes up in the middle of the night sweating; dreams of deep red oozing from wounds, burning flames, Andy's dead eyes and croaking voice "help me".

And he dreams of waking up alone next to a burnt out car, with no Brendan in sight. He has nightmares that Brendan's gone back to prison and Ste's whole world is crashing around him again. And then he wakes up – and the reality is no better.

He doesn't even talk when Brendan calls on the second day. He can't bring himself to say anything. He just listens while Brendan rambles – something he's notoriously bad at.

"I know you're angry at me and I get that, I do. But… it's only gonna be three weeks before you can come visit anyway. And until then it's just…we just…"

He falters.

"…Nate mentioned he might have a kitchen job for you in that centre thing he runs… I dunno what it is… but if there's a job, that's good, isn't it?"

Ste grits his teeth again, refrains from letting tears fall.

Nothing about this is good.

"Steven – you still there?"

"Yeah."

"S'not natural – you being so quiet. You're freakin' me out."

"I don't know what to say."

There's a silence. Ste feels like his words have hurt Brendan in some way, and that makes it worse and then the tears seep from his eyes again and he loathes himself for it. He wants to stop crying.

"You know it has to be like this, don't you Steven?"

XOXOXOXOXO

Cheryl takes Ste to a support group. It's filled with recovering drug addicts like him; each with their own story about loss and despair and redemption. A lot of the stories are worse than his; stories of sexual abuse and stories of people forcing needles into their arms; them not having a choice.

When it's his turn, Ste can't think what to say. He can't talk about Andy. He can't talk about Brendan.

So he confesses croakily, "I still think bout drugs every day. Just seems to… get harder rather than easier. Specially at the moment."

He sits there whilst a bunch of guys say they're his friends now, they're his family.

And later he talks to Brendan – his actual family – about his day.

It's almost starting to feel normal… talking to Brendan on the phone. He even manages to have a laugh with him sometimes, like his lover's just off on a business trip; will be back soon.

Ste tells Brendan about Larry; "this big fat bloke at the support group, givin' everyone hugs all the time at random moments! He's a bouncer though! He's jus' this big cuddly bouncer – it's weird… I think I like 'im actually!"

Brendan tells Ste about his cellmate, Brick; "He swears down that Brick is his name. Fucking Brick! And the guy has a picture of his mother beside his bed, where he wanks; he's a fucking weirdo."

They fall into a routine.

It's strange how quickly people can do that.

Ste takes up work in the kitchen of a centre that Nate runs; it's for old age pensioners. He actually quite likes working with them… it reminds him how long life is; how there's still so much time, so many years when Brendan comes out for them to live and grow old together. It reminds him these three years – which seem like a long time now – will one day be looked on as an insignificant time-frame.

"You look like you've had a lifetime of pain, and you're still in your twenties!" One of the ladies reminds him. "Kid, you ain't even started livin' yet! It's when you're in your sixties – those are the best years."

He even speaks more to Amy on the phone. He tells her that he's helping with Cheryl's son, Connor; that he takes him to feed the ducks and stuff, and maybe Leah and Lucas can visit soon to do the same? Amy can accompany, if she's not ready to leave them with him yet.

And by the third week he gets to tell Brendan; "I'm takin' Amy and the kids out soon! We're going to TGI's and then… I dunno… maybe cinema or somethin', maybe the ballpark."

"That's amazing, Steven. That's great."

"Yeah, and I'm seein' you soon as well!" Ste says, grinning despite himself, heart hammering with the anticipation. "D'you want me to bring anything when I come?"

"Oh yeah, a big stash of coke might get me a few more friends."

"I'm serious."

"Yeah. Bring a picture, will ye? A photo, I mean, of you." Brendan says. He sounds kind of embarrassed about it.

Ste smiles. "What kinda photo?"

"Bring two. One I can put on the wall and one that nobody else can see. You know what I mean?"

Ste spends that evening standing by the full-length mirror in Cheryl's en-suite bathroom. He stands naked and erect and desperately tries to get a decent photograph that doesn't capture the scars on his thighs or the old needle-marks in his arms or his poignant rib-cage. Anything that doesn't remind Brendan that he's a complete utter mess.

He tries to think about what Brendan likes – what positions he likes to put Ste in, what turns him on the most. The fact is, anything does. He gets a couple of completely ridiculous ones with his leg up on the bath and then grows frustrated at how utterly stupid and pathetic he looks in each and every one.

He can't imagine what it is Brendan likes about his bony, skinny body. He can't imagine what it is about him that makes Brendan lick his lips, eyes go dark, hands running all over Ste like he's something precious. He's laid kisses everywhere on Ste from his thighs to his elbows to his toes.

Ste's hand sinks down and he grips his erection, starts to pump it hurriedly. He remembers Brendan's hands there, touching him in exactly the way Ste likes, whilst his cock slides in and out of Ste's arse, pressed into him, hitting the spot with long deep strokes.

Ste bites his lip to suppress a moan; jerks off and remembers Brendan's lips and tongue and bites and breath and the way he would groan so lustfully, handle Ste so expertly. He won't feel any of that now. He'll just have this… wanking in a bathroom, empty, alone… for five years, less only if he's lucky.

He comes with a heated groan and devastated whimper.

XOXOXOOXOXOX

He ends up bringing just the one picture. Just one of him smiling, which Cheryl took. He's got bed-hair and stubble and looks a little worse-for-wear, but Cheryl insists Brendan will like it. He'll have to go without the raunchy one; Ste would never have had the guts to run it past security anyway.

His heart hammers painfully as he waits outside the prison gates, joined by a bunch of other people. Some of them chat to each other – the regular visitors. Ste's palms are sweaty and he clutches his ID with shaking fingers; terrified it will be rejected for some reason… that Brendan might have changed his mind. Brendan's given him a visitors ID reference and he's looked at it so many times that he's memorised it by heart, and reels it off the police guards:

"BRADY437u2xb"

"And your name?"

"Steven Hay."

"And your address?"

"Number 11, Warwick Road, Manchester."

Another officer pats him down and checks his pockets and asks if he's carrying any drugs or sharp objects. Then he has to hand in the photograph and the big wad of money that he's bought for Brendan to be checked as well.

And then he's allowed inside.

And there he is.

Brendan's sat at a small table by himself and he's looking at Ste with such intensity, such hope, such relief. His face breaks into a smile.

Ste feels breathless with it. He feels his legs go weak underneath him; hit hard by how much he's missed him, how much he loves him… how he can't believe that they're here, that he's allowed to see him.

He moves swiftly past all the other prisoners and doesn't even care how it looks when he throws his arms around Brendan; collapses into his embrace. Brendan holds him so strongly and steadily and holy mother of God, Ste didn't even realise how weak and alone he felt until now… until suddenly he doesn't.

"I love you." He whispers tearfully, head buried in Brendan's neck.

"I love you too," Brendan breathes, takes a deep inhale to smell Ste before they're pulled away from each other by an officer – told to sit down.

Ste can't take his eyes off him.

He's beautiful.

He hasn't got a beard like Ste imagined he would. He's made the effort to keep shaving. Ste wonders if that's for his benefit… or maybe he only shaved last night. Ste had grown a careless stubble, but he shaved this morning – keen to look his best for the man who's done this all for him.

"How are you?" Brendan asks. He sounds breathless.

"Yeah. I'm ok." Ste says, "I mean… I got… I've missed you. So much."

"I know."

"Only another four years and eleven months to go though, eh?!" Ste says, and laughs weakly. Only then does he realise he's crying and wipes his tears away hurriedly, glancing round at the other prisoners.

"It'll be less. I'm on my best behaviour." Brendan says surely, and then after a moments surveillance; "You look good."

Ste smiles weakly. He feels anything but, but when Brendan says it he believes it.

"And what about the other prisoners?" Ste asks, "You've not had any trouble have ya?"

"The odd scuffle for the phone. Nothin' serious."

"Oh – I got your money!"

Ste hands the cash over the table. It costs Brendan £6 every day for a 20 minute phonecall. So far he's called every single day, without fail.

"And Connor drew this for you."

He passes the picture over from Brendan's nephew.

"He's just like you, you know." Ste says proudly, "I dunno what it is, he just… he shows the other kids at the park who's boss. I take him to the park sometimes."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I think he likes me." Ste smiles.

"A man of taste."

Brendan's eyes linger meaningfully on Ste's then, and there's everything in that gaze; regret, sorrow, love, lust, flirtation, sadness. It's too heavy, and it makes Ste's skin shiver with everything he wants to do and say but can'tbecause they're here.

"Whatever you've gotta do to get out of here quicker… do it."

XOXOXOXOXOX

It becomes routine. A phone call every day around 3:00. Ste will take his break from work at 2:30 in order to prepare for it – will always take himself to a private, quiet place and wait for the phone to ring. Sometimes Brendan is late in calling because the queue's been long. His voice always makes Ste's stomach settle; calm him immediately. It's as though he lives in permanent panic that something will happen and the call will never come. He will always ask "Are you okay? Are you safe?" and Brendan will ease his fears.

And then once a month is visiting hour, where Ste comes to recognise the regular visitors waiting outside the prison.

He'll bring things for Brendan every time he comes; pictures from Connor, money from the payphone, a paperback book to read. That's one of his favourite things to do now… browse through all the thriller novels and decide which one Brendan would like next. He spends hours in the book store, straining over the writing on the back. The staff know him for it now.

Sometimes he brings other things like a new photograph of himself or Cheryl. Sometimes a letter he's written for Brendan. Nothing heavy or serious – they can do that over the phone – but sometimes something cute or flirty that he's scrawled down during one of his Brendan-related daydreams.

"2 my fuzzy man, love u 4eva"

And one which he wrote drunk, but followed through with sober…

"I wanked off cos I was finking about yor beerd. heres my cum -"

And a pretty little stain at the bottom of the page.

When he gets flyers from the support group, he brings those for Brendan to read too – just to keep him involved. He's even swallowed enough pride to bring in a naked picture of himself… avoiding eye-contact with the police guards as they'd security-checked it.

And so – painfully slowly – time passes.

A year later and they still speak every day, sometimes relaying news to each other:

"I've got computer rights now." Brendan says, "One hour a week. Not bad, eh?"

"Leah and Lucas are staying the night this weekend! I'm stockin' up with LOADS of chocolate!"

"Brick's been released – I got a new roommate. Bald fat guy."

"Cheryl and Nate keep arguin' all the time; s'doing my head in."

"Finished the book. It was Magnus whodunit."

On the odd occasion when Brendan's feeling bold and shameless in the face of his inmates, their flirtations move towards sex-talk:

"You naked? You touching yourself when I talk to ye?"

"I wanna taste your cum."

"Gonna fuckin' ravish you when I get out of here – you ready for that? Think you can get yourself open tonight?"

Sometimes Brendan has nothing to report and just listens to Steven rabbit on; lets it calm him.

"I'm just cookin' a stew for Cheryl and Nate… they've got some mates comin' over tonight – right posh totties; they're like straight out of 'Made in Chelsea'! You know Made in Chelsea?"

And then silence while Brendan just listens to saucepans moving around.

"Oh shit, I put too much salt in!" Ste cries, "Oh well…"

And then that gorgeous honking laugh that makes Brendan's skin warm all over.

And sometimes they plan for the future:

"I was thinking we could move to Ireland." Brendan says, "Come back every month to see the kids. What do you think?"

Ste feels his stomach lurch excitedly.

"Dublin?"

"Yeah." Brendan smiles. "There's this block of flats I used to look at as a kid. They always made a big deal of Halloween and Christmas there; big massive tree, loads of décor, you know? Nice big places. Fuckin' loved them. I was thinkin' we should live there."

"Yeah!"

No arguing. There is nothing Ste would love more.

The idea of living anywhere with Brendan is starting to feel alien to him. Once again they've found themselves spending more time pulled apart than they ever actually had together.

"We can have the wedding in Dublin too?" Brendan says, quieter.

It's a strange subject between them. Even though Ste still wears his engagement ring, Brendan's never sure whether this whole thing has put him off their impending marriage.

XXOXOXOXOXO

"I hate this so much. I'm just… I hate it Brendan, I don't… I can't…"

"And how do you think I feel?! You think I'm having the time of my life in here?! Do you?! "

Not all of their conversations are happy ones about the future, or updates about the trivial things in life. How can they be? Sometimes Ste will find himself crippled with loneliness; it will overwhelm him out of nowhere, in the middle of the night when there's nothing he can do about it but wait for Brendan's call the next day. In those moments he feels sick with the grief of it; will get himself worked up when he's all alone.

Sometimes Brendan will drive himself mad with jealousy, sure that Ste must be moving on, must be meeting people.

One day in the second year, Ste had told Brendan he was moving out of Cheryl and Nate's. Brendan couldn't understand it. They were supposed to get their place together, and why the hell would Ste want to rent his own place between now and then? What was the reason?

"Cos I want to stand on my own two feet, Brendan!" Ste had insisted.

"No." Brendan had pulled his hands away from Ste's across the table. "You're hiding something."

"Look, I don't HAVE to live with your sister! Why would I want to live with a couple?!"

"WHY WOULDN'T YOU? Why'd you want to live on your own?! Unless you're not on your own."

Brendan hadn't called Ste for two days after that, and that was it… Ste thought he'd lost him; was plagued by the terror of it; staring helplessly at the phone and praying it would ring.

So when Brendan finally DOES decide to call him, Ste lashes out.

"You can't just go SILENT on me, Brendan! You can't just… just get paranoid and then cut me out! I've been goin' OUT OF MY MIND here! What, you don't think I get paranoid?!"

"What have YOU got to be paranoid about?"

"You! In there! I dunno who your roommate is, do I?! I know what you tell me. But how do I know that's not all a lie?! That he's not some nice piece of arse you're fuckin' every night?!"

"That's bullshit and you know it." Brendan snaps.

"Yeah. I DO know it!" Ste shouts. "But that don't stop me thinkin' it sometimes. But it's mad. And YOU'RE mad if you think I'M seein' anyone!"

"It's completely different circumstances." Brendan dismisses.

"No it's not! I think about you every hour of every day!" And that's when the tears start to fall, and his stomach twists in a pain akin to what he first felt when Brendan went inside. "What, you think it's EASIER for me than for you? Do you?"

"I just don't get why you're moving into your own flat." Brendan argues, "It doesn't make sense to me."

"Because I need to! Because they said at the support group that I need to be independent."

"They also say they're your fuckin' best friends – they're not!"

"But I want to be independent though, don't I?"

Brendan breathes a tortured sigh on the other side of the line.

"I just…" He stutters, voice lowering as he confesses, "I just… I'm… I'm scared of losing you, Steven. It's fuckin'… it's eating me up. Every day."

Ste feels his heart sink.

They've become so routine in their phonecalls and visits, but they haven't admitted out loud how hard all of this is. Not for a long time.

"I don't know what to say." Ste says weakly. "I would never cheat on you. Not ever. I would never want to."

"Just… just stay with Cheryl." Brendan mutters lowly. "Please."

Ste wants to argue. He doesn't want to spend the next two years feeling like he's under the feet of a couple who are relatively newly-married. He doesn't want to hear his name bought up in their arguments or have Cheryl look at him worriedly when he drinks a can of beer. He doesn't want to walk on eggshells and nor does he want to know they're doing the same.

He hasn't taken drugs for two years, and now it's time to take the leap – to stand on his own two feet.

But Brendan sounds so sincerely desperate for this.

"This isn't me wantin' to spy on you or… or not trusting you…" he tries

"Well… it kind of is." Ste mumbles.

"You've just gotta understand, Steven. I just… I wouldn't be able to sleep at night. That's hard enough as it is."

Brendan barely ever asks anything of him. Not in the open, earnest way like he's doing now.

It makes Ste's resolve considerably weaken.

He lets out a low moan, head in hands.

"I hate this." He whimpers again.

"It's not gonna be for much longer."

"You don't know that."

"I do. I'm doin' everything to prove to them that I'm a changed man – I'm in fuckin' meditation classes for Christ sake!"

Ste sniffs back a tear-clogged laugh.

"Good." He mutters. If he has to continue living with Cheryl and Nate, with their mandatory pecks-on-the-cheek one minute and their exchanging of passive-aggressive comments the next… never valuing each other like they should… then Brendan should have to do shit he doesn't want to do as well.

Brendan sounds nervous when he asks his next question:

"So you'll stay?"

"Yeah, I'll stay. If that's what you want."

"I love you, Steven."

"I love you too." Ste says, meaning every word of it so strongly it hurts. "Please come home soon."

XOXOXOXOXXO

Brendan's got a black eye.

Ste feels sick the minute he sees it… red in the centre and purpling around the edge… at least a week old, which means he's been hiding the truth from Ste over the phone.

"Oh my God." Ste breathes, sitting down on the other side of the table. "What's hap…"

"Don't freak out." Brendan says.

He says it in a low voice like he's keeping deliberately quiet. Ste's stomach twists and his eyes automatically scan the room for who the culprit might be… who Brendan's got on the wrong side of.

"It was just a bust up, that's all." Brendan says, "Nothin' serious."

"Looks serious to me."

"Really? Then you should see the other guy."

"That's not funny." Ste snaps, "You're supposed to be keepin' out of trouble!"

"I am." Brendan brushes it off dismissively, "It was nothing – I promise. You got a new book?"

"Yeah…" Ste mutters, hesitant to let the subject drop too soon. "You're reading these well quickly."

He passes a book over the table; thinks Brendan will like this one cos there's a vampire in it, and it reminds Ste of when Brendan gave him a vampire lecture years ago. It had made Ste laugh because Brendan was a surprising nerd on the subject. Brendan had gotten embarrassed at the time, then smirked flirtatiously and whispered, "Fuckin' love vampires." and sucked Ste's neck.

"The woman in the shop said it's a best seller or summat." Ste says, his face reddening at the vampire memory.

Fuck, he's horny.

Even with a blacked out eye Brendan looks amazing. He's been working out inside so he's more muscular than ever. He's sometimes sporting a moustache and other times a beard when Ste visits him now so it's always like a lucky dip – and today it's a beard which makes Ste swallow back saliva.

His eyes trail over Brendan's lips and he remembers them on him – between his thighs, on his cock, in his arse.

Fuck.

"Down boy." Brendan mutters with a smirk.

Jesus, he must be obvious. Either that or Brendan can still read him like a book. Both scenarios make his cock twitch and this is the last place he wants to be sporting a boner.

"So um…" Change the subject, change the subject, change the subject. "Cheryl and Nate send their love."

"Uh-huh." Brendan mutters, distracted. His eyes are trailing over Ste's features hungrily; soaking him in. He does this every month when Ste visits, but will usually make the effort to reign in his sexual desires. They're with company, after all. But right now it's like he's seconds from bending Ste over the table.

"I've got a meetin' with your lawyer next week n'all." Ste says, looking forcefully at his own hands. "So he might be able to tell us somethin', might'n he?"

"You look good, Steven." Brendan says gruffly.

Ste licks his lips, eyes trailing upwards against better judgement.

"Do I?"

"Better every time I see ye."

Only Brendan can make a statement both sexy and sentimental in such equal measure. It fills Ste's head with sinful images; legs intimately wrapped, Brendan's cock in his mouth, his thighs pressed into Brendan's waist, riding him.

"Stop it." Ste hisses, growing more self-aware and embarrassed.

Brendan smirks, amused, "Stop what?"

"You know. Stop it. I'm serious."

Brendan's eyes darken. He's loving this. He's excited by it. And neither of them have been allowed excitement – not face to face like this – for such a long time. Two and a half years.

"Wish I could touch you right now." Brendan says, voice heavy.

Ste swallows thickly.

"Soon." He mutters.

He imagines tracing his fingers through the hair on Brendan's chest. He imagines the thickness of Brendan's cock in his hand, the strength of his arms around him. He imagines nibbling Brendan's earlobe as he moves up and down on Brendan's fingers, slicked with lube, and then Brendan folding him over the arm of the chair; pounding into him with signature stamina and ruthlessness.

He sees Brendan's darkened expression and heated eyes and tongue pressed slightly between his teeth and he knows he can't give Brendan any of that.

And then he scans the room… over the muscular skin-heads and gangsters to find the slender, fringed, young-looking lads in here who are all at Brendan's disposal instead of him.

His stomach knots.

He's got Brendan turned on and soon he'll send him back to a bunch of other lads.

"I think I'm gonna go." He says tightly.

Brendan blinks, surprised, "You've just got here."

"Sorry." He breathes.

He doesn't even give Brendan a chance to respond. He just legs it from the room. And by the time he gets outside he's already crying, and his chest is tight from the agony that's washed over him out of nowhere. One minute he's turned on and the next he's in despair because it hurts. It hurts all the fucking time but he gets on with it and he makes do. Only sometimes he can't. Sometimes it's too much. And the closer they get to Brendan's release, the harder it seems to get.

He half expects Brendan to come barging out the doors after him, asking him what's wrong, but of course he can't. Ste won't see him now for another month. Won't touch him for years.

"What was all that about?" Brendan asks on the phone the next day. He sounds sad. Ste wonders if he's as sad as Ste is… whether he has been for the last two years, but grinning and bearing it like him.

Brendan always sounds so strong, It's so easy to believe he's coping in there.

"Sorry." Ste repeats again, "Just… it got a bit much."

"I only got to see you for ten minutes."

Somehow he doesn't sound strong now. He sounds exhausted. And broken.

"I know. I regretted it, but they wouldn't let me back in."

There's a silence on the other end.

"Bren? Are you okay?"

"I'm getting out in eight months."

Ste feels like he's missed a step – his stomach jolting.

"What? How do you know?!"

"My lawyer told me. I was gonna tell you yesterday but…"

Eight months.

Eight months, eight months, eight months.

That's two years early. That's heavenly. Insane.

So why does it still feel like such a painfully long amount of time? Why do Ste's eyes prickle with tears? Why does a sense of dread overcome him?

"Steven?"

"Mm. Yeah. I'm still here."

"Steven I wanna marry you. Next week."

"Wh… what?"

"I don't wanna wait."

"A…" Ste's head spins, "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"I thought you wanted to do it properly though?"

"I can't wait anymore."

"Not eight months?"

"Can you wait eight months?"

It seems ridiculous. They've already made it two and a half years; what's another eight months?

"No." Ste gasps, breathless. He can't imagine anything worse. He can't imagine anything better than marrying Brendan, next week, in his jail cell. "No, I want to marry you Bren – more than anything."

"Okay, then I'll sort it." Brendan says firmly. "Okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. You ain't fuckin' running out on me again, ye hear? That was a wasted visit – I got a ton of people quein' up to spend an hour with me."

Ste laughs, giddy and lightheaded.

"Yeah? Well they ain't gettin' ya."

XOXOXOXOXOX

Nate helps Ste with all the application stuff. There are forms to fill out and technicalities to address and all sorts of stuff to arrange which makes this wedding even more of an organisational-ordeal than Doug's big spectacle one.

Still, it's the happiest Ste's felt in two and a half years. He practically skips around the kitchen at the centre in the days leading up to it. It consumes his mind; what he'll say, how they'll kiss, how Brendan will look in the suit that Cheryl's brought for him. He spends hours upon hours writing his vows, rehearsing them in the mirror.

But when the day comes, he can't say anything.

It's like his throat is clogged by a brick of emotion. He stands there with the Chaplin and when Brendan walks in – handcuffed to an officer – he looks so fucking beautiful. His suit is jet-black and defining, his moustache framing his lips; sharp and powerful. His face bears lines that it didn't when Ste first met him all those years ago… but the wrinkles around his eyes are only pronounced in his happiness, because he's smiling when he looks at Ste. Smiling, like nothing else matters.

"Hey." He mutters silkily when he meets Ste by the Chaplin.

And Ste can't say anything. For the first time in his life he's rendered absolutely speechless. It's like everything that's happened – the fists, the sex, the tears, the love declarations, the Dublin bridge, the prison sentence, the drugs, the murder... it's all overpowering him in this moment before they toss it all away to start a new chapter.

All he can do is look at Brendan – utterly entranced by everything he is and how powerfully Ste loves him and how on Earth they came to be here, now.

"You okay?" Brendan asks him, eyebrow raised. There's no genuine concern there though… only fondness, like Brendan knows exactly what he's feeling and all the magnitude of it.

Ste nods, fashions a watery-eyed smile.

He's never been more okay in his life.

This is it now. This is it, forever; what he feels like he was born to do: to meet Brendan and to be with him, like one.

"I love you." He whispers out croakily when it's all over, when the ring is on his finger and the tears are staining red marks down his cheeks.

"I know." Brendan says, "C'mere."

And then they kiss – and it doesn't start with the powerful lustful force that Ste had imagined in his daydreams… it's tender and serious. Their lips meet once, twice, three times and it's like healing and promises. But then Ste can't let go. His hands wrap around Brendan's neck and their tongues push together and they taste each other, take each other.

And Ste starts to panic because he's not sure he can let Brendan go back to that cell now… not after this. They have to spend the rest of their lives together now - with morning-fucks and bickering over music playlists and anniversary presents and falling asleep on the sofa and sharing clothes and underwear. Ste wants all that; he doesn't want to go back to bed alone tonight.

"Just eight more months." Brendan says seriously when Ste won't let go of him… when the officer is trying to pull him away, "Just eight more months, Steven, okay?"

Ste keeps hold of Brendan's neck and when the officer wrenches his hands away he grabs Brendan's jacket… wants to hold on to any piece of him.

"No, I can't, just five more minutes!" He pleads.

Then another officer comes in and hauls Ste away harshly… and it kind of hurts and that makes Brendan angry.

"HEY!" He barks, so aggressively it even makes the Chaplin jump, "Don't touch him! Don't you fuckin' touch him!"

He's all up in the Officer's face and Ste can see their special day crumbling to disaster right in front of his eyes… can practically feel Brendan's sentence increasing.

"No, Bren, it's okay!" He cries.

The officer pulls Brendan's arms behind his back into double-handcuffs… undoubtedly hurting him. It feels unnecessary and Ste feels anger and upset burn inside of him.

"Eight more months, Steven!" Brendan repeats, like mantra.

"Ey… PLEASE!" Ste calls to the officers as they steer Brendan from the room, "You're HURTIN' him!"

He makes to grab one of them, but they nudge him aside. Ste stumbles back, unsteady on his feet, and the vows he wrote… the ones he never read… fall to the floor.

"WAIT! Can I just…" He picks them up… wants to give them to him… but Brendan's already gone. Taken from him, again, mere minutes after marriage.

And Ste sleeps alone again.

XOXOXOXOXOX

Brendan

You are my everyfing. Always hav bin and always will be.

I no that we're ment to be togever cos wen yor not here its like im not eiver. Like sumthing big is gon. I can carry on but im not the same, cos a big part is mising. Thats wot it feels like.

But even wen yor not with me and we're not togever I no everyfing is ok.

Cos I love you and I no you love me. I dont dowt that, ever. And sumtimes when I think about you I feel like yor thinking about me at the same time. And then it makes me feel like we ARE togever, sort of.

You are reely sexy and clever and brave and you dont even no how much. And yu make me laugh. Sumtimes I think you cant even be from this same planet! And yu are such a good man. Even if uver people dont think so. You make me feel like im going crazey most of the time. But thats a good thing cos you make me feel alive.

Most peeple wouldnt get how hard it is to feel alive but you do and thats why I love you too.

Even wiv everyfing I am so so so so glad you came into my life.

Cos even wiv all the bad stuf, you are the best thing that ever hapened to me.

And wotever hapens, I love you forever.

Ste

XOXOXOXOXOXOX

"Your fella getting out today then?" She asks.

"Yeah." Ste smiles; a giddy, excited grin. He can hardly believe it himself. Tonight he will touch Brendan and kiss Brendan and make love to Brendan like he hasn't been able to in three years. "Yours?"

"Yeah." She nods, "S'weird, I've got used to having the bed all to myself now!"

Ste laughs and nods, "Yeah."

But he hasn't. He never got used to it. Not in the last three years, nor the three that Brendan was inside before that.

Not in marriage, nor when they were apart and with other people.

He'll never get used to not having Brendan in his life; strolling in with that confident swagger and sexual smirk and mischievous glint in his eye. Lighting up every room he stands in with fire and excitement.

Even now, after a third stint in prison, Brendan leaves those doors with his head held high and an aura that is powerful, magnetic and all-consuming.

They spend the evening reacquainting their bodies – both untouched for three years. The rock and ride and move together, sensually, desperately, passionately, powerfully. They reconnect in a second… Brendan pushing inside Ste's body, Ste feeling the burn of penetration but opening himself – desperate to move with his husband again. And they do like they were never apart.

They don't sleep. They don't leave any part of the others body untouched. They don't separate skin – not even for a second.

And in the morning they get the first plane to Dublin.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

THE END.