I can't feel a thing

[Niall Gallagher]

The song was an old Irish lullaby that his mother sang to him and sang to all of his brothers. Niall even remembered singing it himself to Lorcan on occasion. So it was the first song that came to mind when Ken asked him to sing. That was what came out. And just as he had done all those years ago, Niall smiled--a stupid smile that spread across his whole face. And he said the same thing he said way back then:

"Killarney sounds better in the song, Ken, ye non-Dingle git." He laughed, low and quiet, his lips finding Ken's temple in the dark. In his ear, he whispered, "Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li..." Now, however, Niall didn't laugh or whisper in Ken's ear. His smile slowly faded and he gently stroked Ken's arm--the one that wasn't wrapped up. Then his hand slid down, fingertips against Ken's palm and then threading through Ken's fingers to clasp hands with him.

"You've been sleeping an awful long time," he told Ken. "But it's still four in the morning now. Do you want me to cook something? I'm not good at it but I can learn maybe. Just don't be surprised if there's eggshells in your eggs."

[Kenneth Branagh]

"Mmm... that's an exclusive club, isn't it?" The Dingle-born and raised. Ken laughed softly and maybe a little deliriously too and let his fingers curl around Niall's as their hands clasped together. Just like old times. It didn't take much to make Ken feel young and breathless again.

Sometimes he felt as if he would never catch up. The silly things and the outlandish things that Niall used to chatter in his ear, Ken struggled just to keep up. He came from a conservative family too but his temperament was suited to it. Ken didn't claim to understand Niall; maybe it was just enough to be there, to lend an ear, a shoulder, a hand to hold.

"Some eggs would be nice..." Probably not poached. Ken's smile widened in the darkness as he turned his head. His smiling lips found what felt like the side of Niall's jaw. "Maybe... hollandaise sauce on top, too?"

[Niall Gallagher]

"It is," Niall said solemnly, "but you might not want to be a part of it. Killarney's better off, you understand. They put all the black sheep in one place but then what happens when even they start leveling off? No matter where you go, there's going to be a little bit of Dingle everywhere."

He didn't care if it made sense or not to Ken--it made perfect sense to Niall. And he was mostly talking because he wanted to and he was lonely and he wanted his Ken back and he wanted to fill the silence. And he wanted to fill Ken's ear with the sound of his voice. Maybe it helped. Maybe it didn't. He liked to think it helped, though. Ken was smiling now. Laughing. Holding his hand.

"Hey," he said, his tone going up an octave as he looked over at Ken. "Holly-what-now? You think I can make that when I can barely crack your eggs without leaving shell in them?" He was joking, somewhat. He knew what it was. He just had no clue how to make it. He fell silent a moment, then rubbed a foot against Ken's ankle. "Alright," he sighed, "How do you make it?"

[Kenneth Branagh]

Sheep? Black sheep? All in one place? Ken really tried to keep up with Niall's line of thinking but he was still tired and dizzy from loss of blood and now he was hungry. The only thing he thought of when he imagined sheep was... lamb chops.

He didn't say that, though. Eggs were all right. Ken laughed a little at Niall's outrage, then laughed again when he relented. "Really, Poodles? You'd make it for me?"

Did they have the ingredients? Ken had stocked the mini fridge with some essentials, but he wasn't sure that their cooking equipment was up to the task--even if Niall was. Plus he wasn't sure he was strong enough to guide Niall through the process.

"...maybe just some fried eggs on toast... for now."

[Niall Gallagher]

"Mhm... anything for you."

But it seemed like Ken was content with just fried eggs on toast. Hm. Seemed doable. Niall gave Ken a nuzzle and a little kiss on the neck before pulling back and rolling off the bed.

"Eggs and toast it is, then!" It didn't matter that it was four in the morning; Niall never had a decent sleep schedule to begin with. Even back home, under his father's rigorous training, Niall was up at all hours. His mother said that he always had trouble sleeping through the night but had no trouble falling asleep randomly throughout the day. What he fought against was being told to sleep, she always said and his father always wore that irritated expression before saying that he needed to iron that out of the boy.

Never did work, though.

Flipping on the light switch, Niall busied himself pulling out eggs and lining them up while he looked around for a frying pan. Previously, one hadn't existed because there was no stovetop. Now that Ken had bought one, look at that. A pan. Niall smiled to himself. Maybe Ken was right about this call.

"How d'you like your eggs?" he asked Ken. "Not that it matters, 'cause I think they're all gonna come out the same."

Cracking eggs, it turned out, was some kind of art that he had no skill for. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that Ken didn't see him picking out pieces of shell. Whoops. Maybe it was a real danger, after all.

[Kenneth Branagh]

"Anything?" Ken mused, with a smile in his voice. "Ah, now, that's a grand promise," he teased as he tried not to look too pleased with the affection being plied onto him. A kiss. A nuzzle. A hand to hold. He was a man of simple pleasures, really.

With just a little difficulty, he eased himself up to sit, leaning against the wall as he watched Niall busying himself with eggs. "I'll have them—" Err... "However they come out," he conceded, not worried about eggshells in the eggs as he was about Niall burning himself on the pan or the stove.

Not that Niall was a child who put his hand into fire out of stupidity or anything. But Niall had a way of running away with his thoughts and when that happened, he failed to take into account his surroundings. Even when they were younger, Niall's father used to shout at him in training to keep his wits about him. The number of times Ken had to yank him out of harm's way...

"How's it coming along?" He craned forward to get a peek at the eggs. "Do you need help?"

[Niall Gallagher]

"Probably!" he admitted cheerfully after a moment's silence. Because um. Yeah. He had cracked the eggs into the pan and they were sizzling but ouch! The shells! Ouch! There were little bits of shell just hanging out, obviously unwanted with the rest of the egg material.

"I can mix a drink," he said, "but I can't cook an egg. What's that say about me, as a man? As a human being?"

He grabbed a spatula. Were eggs supposed to be turned over like pancakes...? Niall made a slight face and then decided to give it a try. Not like, a fancy flip or anything. Just a little flop and oop! There it went. Somehow, it didn't look right. Now that he thought about it, it was supposed to be yellow in the middle and white on the outside when fried, right? Not a mess of yellow mixed with white. Well, it all went to the same place so it couldn't be that big a deal.

[Kenneth Branagh]

"...that you live like a man, actually," Ken said as he slid off the bed, swaying lightly on his feet. He inspected his arm briefly by the light of the weak bedside lamp. It was throbbing, but the bleeding had stopped and he could finally feel his fingers. He flexed them just to make sure that none of the nerves in his arm were severed.

"Let's see those eggs."

...they weren't doing too badly, for split yolks and bits of shell littering the side of the pan. It would taste the same and it wasn't as if a little bit of shell would kill him. He slid his uninjured hand over Niall's back. Oddly, he felt a bit proud of Niall. Usually it was Ken doing the egg frying and meal cooking but this time, Niall was doing it--for him.

"It looks delicious, Poodles," he smiled as he pressed a kiss to Niall's cheek. "I can't wait to taste it."

[Niall Gallagher]

"Now what's that supposed to mean?" Niall asked, mock hurt as he placed a hand over his heart. Lived like a MAN, did he? Actually, he did, and it was hardly an insult. Niall might have been rather fluid in how he expressed himself any given moment but that didn't mean he wasn't a man and that he didn't live just like a stereotypical bachelor.

Plus, he'd left home before he could learn anything of value from his parents. You know, beyond killing and murdering things that weren't human. Lately, that kind of thing, it bothered him. But he didn't know how to start the conversation with Ken and now certainly didn't seem the time, what with him all tired and soft eyed. Niall loved it when he looked at him that way.

"You," he said, kissing Ken back on the lips, "are a terrible liar. I can tell you're lying because no egg of mine looks delicious. In fact, it looks like a... a... sloppy mess of sick from the men's bathroom down at the club." He put a hand on Ken's chest. "So you can't eat it. It won't make you better. It'll make you worse. Actually, it might even kill you." He raised his brows to show how serious he was.

[Kenneth Branagh]

It was better to live like a man than to live like a dog--or worse. Living like a man was hardly an insult, but Ken laughed anyway at Niall's outrage. He only shook his head in lieu of a response. This seemed like one of those 'arguments' that he wasn't going to win and nobody was really insulted, anyway.

"I've not been to the men's bathroom down at the club, so I wouldn't know how your eggs compare," he said mildly as he looked at the eggs again. "But they look fine to me. Don't be so hard on yourself, Niall."

People did eat with their eyes, but Ken was half-dead at the moment. Did he care if an egg wasn't perfectly done over-easy, with a runny yolk? No. He cared only that Niall made the effort to cook it for him, and was now trying to take care of him in the most oddly endearing mother hen way. That was Ken's job, or so he thought, but being on the receiving end of so much care and attention worked for him. It actually, genuinely did feel good.

"So unless you were sick in these eggs..." He reached into the pan and fished out a bit of egg. "I'm having them." He popped it into his mouth and chewed. And he encountered a shell fragment, which went CRUNCH in a fairly audible manner.

[Niall Gallagher]

Niall laughed. Had Ken ever been to the club at all? Probably not. He was so Serious, with the capital S. Everything was so serious in his life but he had rare glimpses of his sense of humor. Niall tried not to let the seriousness of the real world crush him; if he did, then he couldn't survive into the next day. There was something... fragile in his psyche; even Niall was aware it was there, he just hadn't tested the limits of that vulnerability yet. Or maybe he had and he just ended up breaking himself in the process. He looked at Ken, just taking him in and wondering. Did he look broken to Ken? Was that why he acted the way he acted? Or was Ken broken and looking to Niall to help stitch him up. Niall wasn't sure he had the skills for it.

He looked down at the shitty eggs he'd made and let out a soft, amused snort. "Yeah, whatever you say, Ken," he said. He wasn't being hard on himself. Honest. That was the word for it. Honest in knowing that he couldn't cook worth shit but Ken was being too kind, always sugarcoating things. Ken really did see something either broken or on its way to the ground, didn't he?

"I wouldn't--" Niall put his hands up as if to stop Ken but Ken was too insistent. The eggs went into his mouth and there it was. Agh. Niall winced when he heard it--the audible crunch of teeth on shell. "Ugh, gross, Ken! Stop!" He grabbed onto Ken's arm and dragged him to the sink. "Just spit it out. No way you're swallowing that."

He was going to end up making Ken even worse off at this rate!

[Kenneth Branagh]

Luckily this wasn't the first time that Ken had eaten eggs with shells in them. It was unpleasant to crunch down on a shell fragment but it was hardly going to kill him. If anything, it might help the broken bone heal faster--there was plenty of calcium in shells, after all.

He was amused that Niall was so seriously worried about the shells, but when Niall dragged him over to the sink to spit it out, Ken couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling over. Niall was really acting like he might die; maybe it was proof of how much he cared.

There had always been a sensitive streak in him, though. Even when they were young and reckless and foolish, Niall was like that. Not dainty, not made of glass, but... different. He was more in touch with his feelings, Ken supposed, and he wasn't afraid to let people know that he had feelings.

"I'm fine," he laughed as he swallowed the egg, refusing to spit out perfectly good food. Ken wound his good arm around Niall's shoulder and pulled him closer, smiling, amused. Happy. Despite his injuries, he was happy to be cared for.

"Really. I'm fine, don't worry, Poodles." Ken leaned closer. He intended to nuzzle Niall as a gesture of comfort, but... his lips were by Niall's lips and he could guide Niall's head with his hand at his jaw, into just the right position. Loving Niall was easy and it was difficult, sometimes it was impossible, but kissing him seemed to come naturally. Ken's eyes drifted closed just so he could feel the kiss--it started out sweet and soft, then deepened.

[Niall Gallagher]

We're hurt arm twins, he was going to say jokingly as Ken gingerly wrapped an arm around him. It seemed like they were both trying to keep themselves from falling apart. Well, Ken was better at it than Niall, who had been fairly careless since breaking his wrist. Or having it broken, as it happened to be. He hadn't forgotten how it happened but he wasn't really holding a grudge or anything--except he totally was.

His eyes fluttered closed as Ken nuzzled him and he smiled, again about to crack a joke about eggshells in teeth but it seemed like if Ken was good at anything, it was robbing him of his jests and jokes. Instead of jokes and Ken moving away, their lips actually met this time. It seemed like they kept coming tantalizingly close to this but something always seemed to stop them. Or rather, Ken because Niall had been more than forthcoming about getting a kiss or a cuddle.

For a second, his eyes opened--surprise--but then he smiled against the warm kiss and then leaned into Ken as the kiss naturally deepened. His good hand slid over Ken's waist, pulling him in even closer and perhaps hoping to delve a touch lower to get a nice grope in. The kiss continued to deepen and his heart beat so fast that it was a burst of hummingbird energy, the back of his neck tingled pleasantly, and he felt warmth effusing his entire body. Especially his side.

"Ah, ah... ouch," he hissed against Ken's lips as he pushed closer against him and away from the hot stovetop. When he opened his eyes and the kiss broke, he whispered, "I think I just burned myself."

[Kenneth Branagh]

Oops.

Ken drew Niall closer to himself and further from the offending stove. His good hand slid over Niall's side to feel the still-warm spot where he'd been burned. Luckily there was a layer of clothing between his bare skin and the hot surface... but still.

A hurt was a hurt, no matter how light or how serious, how big or how small.

"Careful... love," he murmured, as if raising his voice now would break the magic of the moment. It was a magical moment. Everything was soft, still, quiet. No one was awake save for themselves and for once Ken felt as if they were truly alone and truly close.

Intimacy didn't always have to involve sex. It could be this: closeness, sharing a sweet kiss in the wee morning hours. That wasn't to say that Ken didn't want to lay with Niall, though. Oh, he wanted that and so much more. So much that he could barely restrain himself, and yet, he had to. It wouldn't be right to take advantage of Niall, even if Niall was more than vocal about his own needs... and even if his hands kept wandering to naughty places.

Just a little while longer, Ken thought. A little more progress, to get them both into a healthier place--emotionally and mentally and now, unfortunately, physically. He turned them slightly so that his back was to the stove--and Niall was out of harm's way. They were close enough for him to feel the warmth of Niall's body, right up against his, and their lips were still tantalizingly close together. He kissed Niall again... again... again...

[Niall Gallagher]

Careful never seemed to make itself into Niall's lexicon. That passive suicidal side of him, the side of him that almost longed for the comfort of a world where he no longer had to feel anything fascinated him. There were lists of methods to numb oneself and Niall had probably tried just about every one of them. Something always held him back; something always kept him from taking the final step into the ever darkness that he longed for. Every time he finally fell into a deep, deep sleep, some little part of him hoped that it would be the last time he drew breath.

Niall hadn't always been that way, of course. It happened after Lorcan and it never went away. In fact, the events that transpired afterward and the way people treated him when he needed them the most fanned the flames of that feeling. That longing for death's lasting embrace. He had no way of knowing if what the family religion preached was true or not. Would he see Lorcan again? Would he finally be able to apologize to him? To hug him tight? To be with him again? To hear the sound of his laughter and see the funny little slant of his smile?

Arguably, however, Niall had never been careful. There was a difference between walking the road in the hopes that a semi would splatter him across the blacktop and being careless. As a youngster, Niall felt damn near invincible. So many close calls and lucky saves made him that way. Having people around him that did care helped. It wasn't as if his brothers hated him, even if Paddy picked on him and Junior was constantly exasperated by him. But he was also seen as a liability. The annoying younger brother that constantly got himself into scrapes and troubles because he couldn't stay out of it. Like a moth to flame, Niall had a knack for finding exactly what could burn him and it inextricably attracted him. The light, the warmth, the fire, the danger.

And then
there was Ken.

Ken, Ken, Ken.

Ken who honestly would have been better off if he'd never fallen for Niall's charms. Ken who was the careful one, who always seemed to know what to do in the worst situations. Maybe Niall had leaned on him too much. Maybe he broke him. Maybe that was why when Niall reached out, when he leaned, there was nothing left to catch him. Niall didn't know what made Ken turn from him like everybody else but it clawed at his heart for a long time. Maybe... maybe he still wasn't mended from that. Maybe... maybe his heart would always be crushed in a way that was impossible to reassemble.

What was left of it, though, still ached for Ken. Still beat faster at the feel of his touch. Still clung onto a kiss. Still warmed over and went all fuzzy at the knees when they did kiss.

And Ken spoiled him for kisses, as if he had been waiting for the right moment and then could no longer handle holding himself back for one more moment. Niall kissed him back, bringing his hand up to his chest so he could pull at his shirt and drag him away from the makeshift kitchen and back to the couch bed. He ignored the burn altogether, although it had become a constant throbbing that went along with the rest of his constant throbbing.