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2009.
Phil comes into the Lester family home on the first of November with faded marker on his face and stars in his eyes.
Martyn realizes something is different. He won't let Phil go right to bed, circles and smirks and blocks the way. "Little brother, you look like a mess."
"Shut up," Phil says, shoving at him half-heartedly.
There's a bruise on Phil's neck, faint but present.
Martyn's eyes go wide. "Little brother!"
"What?" Phil asks, then slaps a hand over the spot. His face goes pink , the remnants of whiskers standing out against the flush. "Shut up!"
"Have you got a girlfriend?"
Phil's eyes go wide and his hand drops away. The flush is still there but he's pale too now, pale in that way that's more an emotional state than a physical one.
"No," Phil says.
Martyn's eyes go wider. "One night stand? It's all right, we've all had them."
"No!" Phil says, and fiercely now.
"O... kay..." Martyn raises his hands. "Whatever you want to call it, I doubt you got that from an actual hoover."
"Shut up," Phil says, scowling, and maybe a little scared.
Martyn wants to tell him it's all right but he doesn't know what's even wrong.
*
Martyn's packing his bag a month later, readying his things to head back to where he actually calls home these days.
His parents are already gone. Phil's been cleaning. He's got a friend coming over, that same kid he's had around a few times now. He's weird and talks too much but Martyn won't judge.
He dumps his bags by the door and walks into the kitchen. Phil is leaning against the counter, grinning stupidly down at his phone. "Did Mum leave any of those cakes?" Martyn says. He throws open the fridge door and begins to pilfer. "I'd like one for the road."
"There was one left," Phil says, then sheepishly: "I ate it, though."
"You are the objective worst," Martyn says, shutting the fridge and reaching for the biscuit tin instead.
"Can I - do you have a minute?" Phil asks.
Martyn eats half a biscuit in one bite. "Maybe," he asks, crumbs flying.
"I don't have a girlfriend," Phil says.
Oh. It's one of those talks. Martyn clears his throat and tries to sound encouraging. "You'll get there."
Phil rolls his eyes. "I hope no. No, it's - I don't have a girlfriend. Or. A boyfriend. Yet. But. I might."
Well.
This is not that kind of talk, after all. This is an entirely different kind of talk.
"You - wait, is it - the kid?"
"He's not a kid," Phil says. "He's eighteen, but he's mature."
Martyn snorts, but Phil looks so cross so quickly that he tries to make his face into something more serious. "Do Mum and Dad know?"
"That I invited the boy I'm going to ask to be my boyfriend to stay in our house for a week while they're on holiday?" Phil's expression and sarcastic tone are all the answer that Martyn really needs.
"Well, I think it's - that's great, you know. That's... have you always-"
"I don't-" Phil pauses. "Can we, I mean. I don't really... have it all figured out."
"But you do think you have... Dan... figured out? Your, you know, feelings, and all that?" Martyn asks. "And he's good to you? Should I threaten to beat him up if he's not? I don't know the protocol for this."
"Don't be stupid," Phil says, reaching out and stealing one of the biscuits. "It's not that different, as long as you don't. Don't think. That I'm, I'm like. A freak, or something."
The words just falter there.
This part, at least, is easy. Martyn claps a hand on Phil's shoulder. "You are absolutely a freak. But not because you fancy a bloke."
Phil shoves Martyn hard enough to make him stumble a step, but he's laughing and there's so much relief packing into it that it's almost weirdly hysterical.
"Seriously," Martyn says, and pulls Phil into a hug, patting his back. "The biggest freak, but I love you."
2017.
It's a newer house and an older them, lingering in the lounge after Phil's parents have gone to bed.
It's been a day of Phil. Little brother, full grown man. Son and partner and person, complicated as ever underneath that peaceful smile. Sometimes Martyn has his sappy moments. The drowsy downfall of a sugar rush seems to make him extra prone.
Dan and Cornelia are talking in the kitchen, laughing over something. He can hear water running so they must be doing the washing up. Significant others are so useful in their desire to impress the family.
"Little brother," Martyn says, yawning then nodding as he pushes himself up. He's going to go collect his better half and retreat to bed, he thinks. It's been a long day with a lot of cake and a lot of laughter and both of those things make for a sleepy, satisfied soul. "I wish you the happiest of birthing days, but I think it's time for me to collect my partner and retire to the bed place."
"Wait," Phil says, blocking the way.
He dances foot to foot. It looks sheepish, and sort of impatient, too.
Martyn understands impatience. He can almost feel the softness of a pillow under his head.
"I wanted to show you." Phil smiles and reaches into his pocket and-
Martyn understands, suddenly.
He thinks of Phil standing in the kitchen in the house in Manchester.
Phil doesn't even open the ring box. He just lets it sit on his palm.
Martyn smiles ear to ear. Proud, he thinks, is the word for what he's feeling right now.
Phil smiles back, looking calmer for whatever he sees on Martyn's face, and slides the box into his pocket.
*
Dan walks back in, wiping damp hands dry on his jeans.
"I want to go for a walk," Phil says.
Martyn can hear the nerves in his voice. Dan must be able to as well because he gives Phil an odd soft smile and says, "Okay."
"Oh!" Cornelia looks at Martyn, eyes bright and eager. "We should go too. The moon is so large tonight."
Phil shoots Martyn a look. He doesn't need to; Martyn has his back. That's what brothers do. "Tomorrow?" Martyn says, whining a little. "My cake needs to digest."
"You're nothing but cake." She pokes his belly, pouting.
"Tomorrow," he promises, then grabs her and pulls her close as he topples down onto the sofa. He wraps his arms around her until she's half in his lap and doesn't let go.
When he looks up Phil is slipping out the door hand in hand with Dan.
Cornelia watches him watch the door, catching on that something is happening. "What is it?" She demands to know.
He just shakes his head. "I think you'll find out soon enough."