This is the final chapter.

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"Right, here's what we're gonna do."

Ste crosses over to the bar, pouring himself a drink and swallowing it down in one clean motion. He doesn't flinch when the liquid hits the back of his throat.

"You're gonna go back to wherever you were before." He holds up a hand when Skunk tries to cut in, silencing him. Brendan looks between them, feels a spark of amazement run through him. The boy's in a tracksuit, is a good few inches shorter than Skunk, but Jesus - he's owning this.

"And you're not gonna ask for any money. And all of that blackmailing shit -" He breaks off, lets out a snigger as if the mere concept is ridiculous. "We're never gonna hear about that again."

Skunk looks at Brendan, seems to be waiting for further instruction, some kind of input, but he stays silent, leaning against the wall. Ste's got this, got all of this. He doesn't need to add anything. He's just happy to watch the boy.

"How do you know I won't go to the police?" Skunk crosses his arms, tries for something like a leer, a last ditch attempt to look intimidating. It doesn't quite have the same impact in the face of Ste's bravery. He's not backing down, is staring at Skunk with a smile on his face, a picture of golden skin and thrilling confidence. He's as beautiful as he is terrifying.

"Come on." There's a patronising edge to Ste's voice, as though he's talking to a child. "Lets not go through all that again. Enough, eh? You know it, I know it, Brendan knows it - you're not gonna be telling anyone about this. A thirty year stretch behind bars isn't the way you want to spend the rest of your life, is it?"

Skunk looks disarmed, looks like he's aware that his plan is increasingly crumbling. Brendan has to remind himself that this is the man who killed Trevor. He looks fragile. Looks like he wants to run.

"So you're alright with this, Steven? Alright with your boyfriend being a killer?"

Brendan advances forward, doesn't like the sound of the name on the man's lips, doesn't like the truth spilling from them. It's Ste who stops him: stands between them and places a hand on Brendan's chest, hears how loud his heart's beating, how the adrenaline is making him want to do something reckless.

Ste leans closer, whispers so that only Brendan can hear.

"It's okay, Bren. It's okay."

His touch is soft, familiar. Comforting.

Brendan takes a step back, never looking away. He's killed a man in this club before. He can do it again if he has to.

Skunk laughs, looks like he's snarling. "You two are sick, you know that?"

It's Brendan who has to hold Ste back this time, an arm wrapped around his waist. He's skinny as fuck, but he's strong when he wants to be.

"N'awww, that's nice." The boy's spitting. Brendan can see it transferring onto Skunk's skin. "Now fuck off, and don't come back."

:::::::

He pours Ste a drink, figures he'll need it after what he's done.

The boy's not shaking though. He's calm, calmer than Brendan likes. He ignores Brendan's attempts to get him to sit down on the stool at the bar, motioning over to the sofa instead.

When Brendan sits down, his drink almost spills when Ste climbs into his lap, making his words die on his lips when he crushes his mouth against his.

"Steven -" Brendan pushes him gently away, putting his drink down, placing a hand on the boy's face and trying to steady him. He feels like a live wire in Brendan's arms, unpredictable. There's an excitement within him that Brendan recognises: the excitement of facing something that scares him, and winning.

"I wanna fuck."

Brendan puts a hand on the boy's chest, needs a few seconds to clear his head, to work out if this is the right thing to do. He's hidden this for months - thought that Ste would leave him if he found out about Trevor. Thought that the idea of touching Brendan again would make his skin crawl. He didn't expect him to burn up for him, his hands snaking underneath Brendan's shirt, his groin rubbing against his own, trying to coax him into giving in.

"Are you gonna say no?"

There's teeth against Brendan's ear, and he can feel Ste's dick hard against him.

"Cos if you are..." The boy unbuckles, shuffling out of his boxers. His dick's flush and hard, and Brendan smooths his hands across Ste's thighs as he looks at it, watching as Ste wraps a hand around it, swiping a finger over the head. "You can always watch."

Brendan swallows, pulse racing in his wrist. It feels like taking advantage - feels like he's doing something wrong, that Ste can't love him when he's done this, when he risked everything. He could have got caught, could have been sent down. Could have destroyed everything they have all over again.

But he can't not touch him. Can't turn his head away when Ste's lips find his. Brendan's hand replaces Ste's on his cock, and he listens, hardening, as the boy gasps and moans into his mouth, the sound transferring between them. When Ste grows impatient and tries to undress Brendan, he doesn't let him. Jerks him off hard until he releases violently, come covering Brendan's hand.

He offers it to Ste and the boy licks it off, his tongue curling like a cat's, a darting flick.

He gets off Brendan's lap, looks loose limbed and satisfied.

"Oi." Brendan frowns, looking down at his erection straining in his trouser suit.

Ste laughs - when did that laugh stop being annoying and start being one of his favourite sounds? - and he pads back over, come drying on his stomach. He looks a mess, and Brendan loves it.

He releases Brendan's cock, holding it tightly.

"Do you want me to..." The boy dips his head, mouth parted. Jesus. Brendan wants to let him, is mesmerised by the sight of it, but there's something he wants even more.

"Stop."

Ste faces him again, watches him for what he's going to do next.

"Lie down. Arse up." He nods at the sofa, and Ste understands then: smiles, and continues smiling when he lies down, letting out a yelp at the feel of the cold leather against his stomach. His arse is soft when Brendan touches it, and he strokes it for long enough for Ste to grow bossy, craning his head round to see what's taking so long.

"You gonna stare at me bum all day, or..."

Brendan gives a stinging slap to the area, and Ste cries out before collapsing into giggles, rubbing his arse better. The boy stops laughing, stops moving when Brendan licks him out. All that Brendan can hear is sounds above him, and Ste's stillness slowly changes: he's rubbing his groin against the leather as Brendan's tongue goes deeper. He'll have to wash that sofa. It's wet from where Ste's gyrating like a dancer against it.

"Brendan, Brendan." He's breathless when he repeats his name, and it makes Brendan lick him harder, makes him curl a hand more securely around the boy's waist and drag him closer. He'd be worried that Ste couldn't breath if he wasn't making so much damn noise.

"What do you want?" Brendan's irritated to come up for air: he gives another slap to Ste's arse as punishment. Too bad it ends up seeming like a reward, making Ste writhe and squirm, his cock thickening.

The boy raises his arse up, and Brendan huffs out a laugh.

"You ready?"

"Yeah." He sounds almost coy now.

"You sure?"

"Fuck sake." He elbows Brendan from behind. He's pushing the boy, but he doesn't want to play games now, not when he's aching for him, balls heavy in his palm when Brendan brushes his thumbs over them, lining himself up.

He doesn't know how they got here. Doesn't understand how he thought he was so close to losing this. The boy knows him, senses something in him - could be hesitancy, because he angles himself up to force Brendan inside him deeper, and when his ring begins to slip from around his finger from the sweat that they're creating, he slides it on firmly. Keeps it safe.

::::::

Ste kissed the hands that had circled around his waist. Kissed along the fingers, his lips pressed against the knuckles.

"I thought you'd already left."

"Thought I should stick around. Turns out I'm not much good without you."

Ste smiled around the kiss, arching back against Brendan's stomach.

"I'm sorry about what happened - the way I acted at the hotel. I thought you didn't want me anymore." His voice got quieter as he went on. Brendan held him tighter.

"I've always wanted you."

"But why -"

"I told you. I can't be your safety net. I can't be the person you run to when things get tough with Douglas."

Ste laughed in disbelief, turning round to face Brendan. The flat was dark except for the lamp in the corner of the room. Ste imagined Brendan tiptoeing into the place, seeing him asleep on the sofa, phone clutched in his fist, waiting for Brendan to call.

"You're kidding me, right?" He widened his eyes, wanted Brendan to hear his own words back like an echo. When Brendan said nothing, Ste realised - he really didn't know. Didn't know a single damn thing about how much he meant.

"Brendan, it's always been the other way round. My safety net -" Ste shook his head fiercely. "Nothing about you is safe. Being with you was probably the most stupid, dangerous decision I ever made."

"Thanks."

Ste laughed at the look of indignation on Brendan's face, not stopping until his expression softened.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah. I do." He paused, looked like he had difficultly meeting Ste's eyes. "So he's gone then? Douglas." There was such a small amount of hope there, the kind of hope that could easily be extinguished.

"What do you think?"

"Before you woke up, I checked your room." Brendan stopped, seemed to be waiting for Ste to tell him off for snooping, but when nothing came he continued. "I saw that all his stuff had gone. I thought - I hoped..."

"I broke up with him." Were those the right words when a marriage ended? Something that had lasted for more than two years should have sounded more momentous. More important.

The hope was growing. Ste could see it in Brendan's eyes, the way they lit up. He looked like he was trying to make an effort to not be pleased.

"Wait a sec." Ste's brow creased as he stared around the flat, trying to search for any broken windows or signs of a break in. "How did you get in? I didn't keep the door open did I?"

Guilt crossed Brendan's face, and he looked down at the floor, bashful. "I asked Tony. Thought he might have a spare key. Know you two are close, so..."

Ste wanted to be angry, wanted to accuse Brendan of invading his privacy, but he couldn't - he needed him here. Had asked him to come, and it warmed him that Tony had given Brendan the key. There was someone in his life who trusted him, who was willing to give him a second chance.

He suddenly realised the intimacy of where they were. The flat where Brendan had lived in for months. The floor where they'd fucked. The sofa where they'd lied in each others arms. Everything held a memory - memories that he thought had been erased when Doug had moved in.

Nothing had been erased at all. Everything felt stronger now, and he became shy: felt the enormity of the situation. Knew that this could be it. Him and Brendan, forever. He'd been waiting for this for two years, but he was scared. This felt final.

"Do you want some tea?"

Brendan looked taken aback at the change of subject, but he recovered, nodding.

"Alright then."

Ste walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on. While he went through the methodical tasks - getting the mugs out, putting the tea bags in - he checked every few seconds, looking into the adjacent room and making sure that Brendan was still there.

He was, every single time.

::::::

It was four in the morning, but they still hadn't gone to bed. Ste had work at nine, but he couldn't walk into the deli, knew already that he'd have to start looking for something else. He'd already forced Doug to waste years over him, and he couldn't put him through that again. Didn't want Doug to have to see him every day, smell Brendan on his skin.

He'd give him the business. Ste didn't care if he didn't get what was owed to him. It wasn't about that anymore.

Ste let the tea warm him. Poured so many cups that he lost count, and then began to make coffee for Brendan when it became clear that sleep was futile. Ste didn't want to fall asleep. Didn't want to miss this.

They didn't touch, and Ste wondered how it was possible: how he had woken with Brendan all around him, and now they were separated by the pillows that were between their bodies on the sofa. He wanted to regain that intimacy, but if this wasn't forever - and he wasn't entirely sure if it was - then he didn't want to remember what it felt like to be that close.

But it hurt. It hurt to hear Brendan's voice, and to look into his eyes. It hurt to remember how much he'd loved him, and how he loved him even more now. Everything that had been hidden before - Seamus, and his childhood, and what had happened - it was no longer secretive, or concealed behind layers of fabrication and lies.

Ste wondered if that was the problem. If Brendan didn't want to touch him because he was afraid that all Ste felt was disgust.

"Do you forgive me, Brendan?" He said it during a quiet moment, when Brendan was sipping at his drink, the foam from the coffee collecting in his beard.

Brendan looked bewildered. "Forgive you for what?"

"For Doug. For..." He considered telling him about George. About the one night stand he'd had days after Brendan had left. But there was rubbing salt into the wound, and there was splitting the wound open, puncturing it all over again. He couldn't do it.

Brendan put his mug down, giving Ste his full concentration. He looked serious, and tired. Looked like he'd lived a whole life and was scarred by what he'd seen.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for."

He said it with such sincerity that Ste couldn't question it. When he asked Brendan if he still loved him, there wasn't the doubt that he was expecting. His own words sounded assured. He knew he did. He knew that Brendan couldn't have got on that plane back to Ireland. Knew that Brendan would kill for him all over again. Would stand in front of that bullet and take the hit.

"More than anything." He seemed solemn. Seemed like he thought he would lose all of this. That he wasn't worthy.

Ste moved closer until their legs were touching.

"I love you. Always have, even when I was - especially when I was with Doug. It was nice, being with him. Nice. That's it."

It was only as he said it that he understood what the last two years had been about. Survival. Getting by. Not being alone.

"Why..." He was mumbling. Felt self conscious asking. "Why haven't you tried to sleep with me?"

Or kiss me. He wanted to be kissed. What had happened at the hotel hadn't been enough: a few minutes of near release, before it was snatched away.

"I didn't think I had the right. And you might...not want to."

"Why wouldn't I want to?" Ste felt frustration rising in him. Fuck Brendan. Fuck him for thinking for one second that he didn't want him.

"You know..." He scanned Ste's face, then hurriedly looked away.

"Your dad?"

Brendan's silence felt like confirmation.

"Bren." Ste wiped his eyes - wasn't crying, not yet, but he wanted to. They'd only ever had one conversation about this. One conversation, before he never got the chance again. "It wasn't your fault."

"It's a cliche line - you've gotta say that." It was like he was wiping his words away. Disregarding them completely.

"I ain't gotta say anything." Ste was growing angry now, face flushed. "Do you think I want to be with you because I feel sorry for you? Fuck, Brendan. I'm with you because I feel for you. That's where it finishes. I'm not gonna be thinking of what your dad did to you when we're... All I ever think about is you. The moment you kiss me, that's all that's in my head. I hate him for what he did, and I wish Cheryl hadn't shot him, because I would have killed him myself. But he has nothing to do with us. He wasn't here in the beginning, and he won't be here at the end."

"What's there at the end?" Brendan's voice was wavering. Breaking.

"You and me." Ste extended his hand. "Now are you gonna come to bed? Cos I want to close that door behind us, and I want to be with you. Just you."

Brendan took his hand.

::::::

They didn't sleep. They became exhausted, but something stopped them. When Ste began to settle, Brendan would slide down his body and take his cock in his mouth, and the boy's eyelashes would flutter, his body becoming alive again. When Brendan closed his eyes, the pillow soft and contrasting to what he'd had in prison, Ste's lips would be attached to his throat, his hands wandering southwards.

When morning came, Ste called in sick to work, leaving a message with one of the new staff. He was already full of Brendan's cock, and wondered if the girl could hear his breathlessness from down the line. When he hung up, he tried to scold Brendan for making him sound unprofessional, but Brendan chose that exact moment to start increasing his movements from inside of him, and Ste couldn't talk at all after that.

They had a late breakfast in bread: croissants and juice, and Brendan licked the melted chocolate that oozed out of the pastry, spreading it onto Ste's chest and over his nipples. They were starving after fucking all night, but the earlier suggestion of getting more food was abandoned.

Ste flinched, and Brendan saw.

"You sore?" He stroked a finger gently across Ste's hole, seeing the redness there. It looked stretched. He knew he wouldn't have to prepare the boy.

"Yeah." Ste was biting his lip, breathing harshly.

"Let's give it a few hours."

"No." Ste pulled Brendan towards him. He must have had a condom in his hand this whole time, but Brendan hadn't seen it, and he watched and stroked the crown of Ste's head as he rolled it over his dick. "Now."

"I don't want to hurt you." His resistance was already fading. He secured Ste in his lap, teasing his rim with the head of his cock.

"Don't care." He sank down in Brendan lap, and their groans felt as synchronized as their movements. Ste began to rise and fall, and Brendan didn't do anything, didn't thrust up into him from below - just watched, felt the boy's inner muscles contract and tighten at the invasion, marveled at how good he was at this.

They didn't get dressed all day.

::::::

"What if he comes back?"

Brendan can't eat the meal that Ste's cooked for him. It's enough to make the boy frown. He knows it's his favourite. Knows that Brendan would wander through a burning forest if there was a guarantee of food waiting at the other end.

"He's not gonna." He says it with an edge of confidence that Brendan doesn't possess.

"How do you know?" He presses, jabbing the untouched steak with his fork.

"I met him a couple of times, remember? It was enough to show me what he's like. No offense, but you could of hired a better hitman. I'm surprised he didn't mess up the entire job."

Brendan looks across the table in shock.

"First you tell me you don't care that I killed Trevor, and next you're giving me tips? Jesus, kid."

"I'm just saying. Never trust a guy called Skunk. Common sense, innit?"

"Hmm," Brendan grunts, taking a first bite of the steak. Boy makes a fucking good one.

"Anyway, enough about him. Mitzeee called."

"Oh yeah? She okay?"

"Fine. Just asked about the wedding." A smile splits Ste's face, and Brendan's sure he's not imagining the way he holds his ring up slightly to the light. Show off.

"Let me guess - she wants to plan it?"

"Already has the cake we should order, the band we should hire, the venue, the suits -"

"No." Brendan puts his cutlery down on the table. "Absolutely not."

"That's what I told her." Ste shovels more food into his mouth, bits of spaghetti sauce ending up on his chin.

"You did?" He thought Ste would agree to all of it. Thought that a simple wedding was all an illusion, and he wanted something fancy like he had with Doug.

"Course. That's not me, is it? It's not us. Besides. I've got my own ideas."

The boy's eyes light up. He looks happy. Looks happier than Brendan's ever seen him.

"Like what?"

"I thought maybe we could get married in Dublin. Only - only if you want to, of course. I know there's loads of memories with your dad, but...well, there are good ones too, aren't there? That's where we -"

"Yeah," Brendan says immediately, doesn't need time to think it over. "On the Liffey bridge."

"I don't think people can get married on bridges, Bren." But he smiles. Looks like he's picturing it.

"Says who? We can do whatever we want, Steven."

"You think they'll let us?"

"I'll have a word. Talk to them." He doesn't know who he'll talk to - the council, the governor? - but he'll make it happen. Anything.

"We can make one of those love locks and all, can't we?" Ste's ears are pink now, excitement building within him. He gets up from his seat, his hands around Brendan's waist, his chest pressed against his back.

"Demanding wee fucker, ain't you?"

"Shut up."

Brendan laughs, sounds filthy to his own ears.

"We can though, can't we?" Ste's voice is soft in his ear. "We can make one, and then throw away the key, and it'll live at the bottom of the river forever."

"Forever?"

"Forever."