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things like that it doesn’t,” Jayden said tartly. He put his mug on the floor and leaned forward to wrap his arms around Darren’s neck and kiss his forehead. “You love me.”
    “We-ell.”
    “You do. You love me more than anything,” Jayden insisted, turning Darren’s head forcibly and kissing the bridge of his nose. His elbow cupped around the back of Darren’s skull, and the victim twisted into the movement, abandoning his own tea in favour of not wrenching something important in his spine.
    “I like you?”
    “You love me,” Jayden insisted, kissing those springy curls and tugging until Darren twisted around to face him properly. “You do,” he murmured, kissing that mouth the second it was within reach, and Darren stroked a single finger down the shell of Jayden’s ear.
    “Maybe.”
    “There’s no maybe,” Jayden murmured, pressing fleeting, open kisses to Darren’s jaw and mouth. “Not even a probably. You do .”
    “Okay,” Darren ceded lowly, wrapping an arm over Jayden’s chest to press him back into the cushions and kiss him soundly. “Okay, I love you,” he whispered into the lack of space between them, and smiled into the kiss. “A bit.”
    Jayden tugged on a handful of curls, but didn’t break the kiss.
    * * * *
    Rachel came home at four; Jayden was woken from a light doze by her keys in the front door, and Darren grumbled incoherently as she meandered past, wished Jayden a belated Merry Christmas, and kicked his boyfriend.
    “Hey!” Jayden protested. Darren merely made a rumbling sound, like an angry cat. Jayden blinked at him, and Rachel snorted.
    “He’s in the way!” she defended herself, pulling an innocent face, and took her shopping bag into the kitchen. “How was your mum’s house?”
    “Busy,” Jayden said, “but it was good. Your sister’s?”
    “Oh God, she’s only fucking pregnant,” Rachel complained loudly, banging the kitchen cupboard above the toaster. Jayden listened intently and relaxed again when he heard her pop the padlock back on. “Everyone’s been asking me when I’m going to find a nice guy and have a baby too; it sucked .”
    Jayden called a vague response, settling back into his dozing position and stroking a thumb over Darren’s collarbone lightly. Darren ignored him, watching the telly, and Jayden let him alone. He felt warm and tired, contented and right where he was supposed to be, in their squashed little house with Rachel banging around in the kitchen and Darren watching the football results with rapt attention.
    Rachel eventually returned with a cup of tea and an aspirin; Jayden raised his eyebrows, and she said, “I locked the cupboard, fussy, it’s fine.”
    Darren grumbled something, but they both ignored him. It was a rule in their house: all medication was locked away in a cupboard to which Darren wasn’t allowed a key. All but a week’s worth of Darren’s painkillers for his shoulder were left out. Just in case , you know? Thankfully, Darren actually hadn’t taken the decision too badly, although he had been a bit belligerent about it when he was first put on the antidepressants, the citalopram, but…but in the wake of that fiasco, Jayden was so, so glad they’d taken that step.
    If they hadn’t…
    They had a number of steps like it. No alcohol kept in the house, no medication left out or in the bathroom cabinet. Jayden would never admit to it on pain of death or dumping, but he checked the kitchen knives regularly in case any disappeared or randomly got cleaned, and the same for the razors in the bathroom. He openly checked Darren’s arms, all the time, and Darren’s reaction could be anything from frustrated anger to more-or-less ignoring him and letting him have his way. And Jayden wanted to trust him, but Darren in the grip of a bad spell just couldn’t be trusted, and the medication failure had proved that. If they'd had it just lying around, then…then maybe that time…
    The thought made Jayden loop an arm