We Are Bulletproof

Slipping out alone was becoming increasingly more difficult with Ken around but the withdrawals were too much to bear. He pretended things were okay but the minute Ken left him alone, he was running straight back to chemicals. The worst part was the withdrawals from prystal and from the sex demons. Ken didn't want to have sex with him at all and beyond innocent touching, there was nothing. Nothing!

So when Ken left for a meeting with his hunting pals (and JEM--he spat the name even in his mind), Niall decided it was time to skip the apartment and go find something sweet to gel over the pains and sickness that had been overtaking him for days. They said it took like... he couldn't remember how many days. Like a month? To kick a habit. But Niall felt like it was taking too long. Why didn't Ken realize this?

Why didn't he see that his skin was crawling and that he couldn't sit still? He was biting his nails, the skin around his nails, he was pulling at his hair, he was fidgeting, fidgeting, fidgeting. God, he couldn't sit still for a moment. It really felt like there were bugs crawling beneath his skin, waiting to burst out.

So yeah. Ken was on business. And Niall pretended to be so tired that he wouldn't be able to get up and go anywhere. Don't answer the door, blah blah blah. Once enough time had passed, Niall threw the blankets off and scuttled to the closet. Once he was dressed and ready, he peered through the peephole. No Ken waiting on him. Well, he shouldn't be. If he was still there waiting nearly an hour after he left, he had REAL issues to deal with.

Downtown. Midday.

Not the ideal time to be out here looking for drugs but he knew the places to go, no matter what time it was. The brothel, for example, was a 24 hour deal. Pulling his hood over his head over his curls, he smirked as he approached. He really felt like he was getting away with something. That was... until he opened the door and found a couple of familiar forms standing inside. One was Kyle. The other was...

All the blood drained out of Niall's face.

"K-ken!" He immediately backed up toward the door. "I can... totally explain what this is about..."

Blue Kenneth Branagh

Where the hell was Jem? He was supposed to be at the diner half an hour ago, but he didn't show up. Ken had to leave without him, since their 'appointment' within the brothel couldn't wait. Of all places, a brothel. Jem sure knew how to pick them.

Ken left a message for Jem with the other guys who decided to wait for him and then headed off downtown alone; luckily it was only a ten minute bus ride away. Perks of living in a small town, he supposed; everything was within walking distance, mostly.

As he sat on the bus and stared out of the window at the passing scenery, his mind wandered back to the flat and to Niall. Ken was concerned about Niall's health. Lately it had taken a sharp decline, ever since Ken put him--forced him--into an almost military regime of diet, exercise and no drugs, alcohol or supernatural influence. It wasn't easy, though; Niall resisted and resented the changes.

He resented Ken, too, and it broke Ken's heart to have to be The Enemy in Niall's eyes, but he still had to go through with it. He had to do what was right, even if it was the hardest thing he had ever done--harder than having to kill his own mother, after the vampires changed her and left her there for him to find. Harder than even that, but he didn't let Niall know because it wasn't time yet. This wasn't about Ken, or Ken's problems, or Ken's past.

This was about turning a new leaf and moving on with their lives together.

Some days were harder than others. Some days were impossible. When Niall begged him and implored with him, with tears clinging to his lashes, Ken had to harden his heart. When he writhed in discomfort and scratched at his own arms and legs to get the creeping, crawling sensation out, Ken had to wrap his arms around him and force him to stop harming himself. And when he shouted that Ken didn't understand, that he was abusing him, Ken had to pretend that none of it went straight to his heart.

It was difficult being in love with Niall, too, and to not be able to touch him intimately. Ken wanted to. Niall wanted him to. But they couldn't foster a relationship in the midst of so much uncertainty. Ken wanted a fresh start--for both of them. Rushing into things now would come back to bite them, he was almost certain of it. Fostering love and repairing a relationship didn't happen overnight. Ken was in it for keeps; rushing ahead felt like repeating the past all over again and he couldn't risk that, could he?

He sighed and rested his head against the window. Maybe he could take Niall out tonight. A date? To take his mind off of things? It could be a welcomed distraction, and the little part of Ken that was romantic caught on to the idea and clung to it. It would also be a treat from the diet that they were both on--Ken decided to follow it too, to show Niall that he was just as dedicated.

Thinking about the date and settling on it made him feel much better about having to leave Niall at home, all alone. Ken wished that he was home now, but there was still work to be done. He sucked it up and got off the bus. Locating the brothel wasn't difficult, knowing where the entrance was, and he was surprised to see Jem and the others pulling up just as he reached the door. Ken nodded to them and wordlessly, they entered.

Find the informant. Gather the information. Then... clear the infestation.

It was supposed to be a simple job but before they could even meet with their man on the inside--just as they were waiting for him to come down--someone entered and they all turned to look. But only Ken's heart sank straight to the bottom of his shoes. And only his expression showed a naked surprise and hurt and... betrayal.

There was only one reason anyone came to a brothel infested by incubi and succubi.

As Niall backed away, stammering excuses, Ken tried to school his expression but he struggled to do it because Niall was the last person he expected to be here. Niall was supposed to be at home, weak and ill and unable to go anywhere. Niall was supposed to be... his. Hadn't they agreed on that? Or was it only Ken who thought that they were together? He didn't know what hurt more, between the cheating and the lying.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Aiden hissed as he walked forward to grab Niall's wrist, giving him a hard shove. "Get out! We're--"

Ken stepped in and wrenched Aiden's hand away. Then he took Niall's wrist and, hard-eyed and stern-faced, and pulled him outside.

It had been weeks. WEEKS. Only coming up on three, but still. Those three weeks of being sober were driving him insane. Like he felt like he was hearing things. Voices. He felt like there were shadows in every corner. And the sickness, the maladies. Not for one moment did he feel comfortable in his own body. The walking, the jogging, the healthy diet, it might be Ken's idea of fixing what Niall did to himself but this was nearly a decade of self destruction that Ken was trying to unravel. It wasn't easy to remove the shackles of comfort he'd allowed to take hold of him.

Once, he did manage to sneak some alcohol and even that was a brief respite in the midst of the shock his body was going through. Half the time, he felt too hot, the other time, too cold. His skin burned when touched. His hair even hurt, sitting on his head. He was getting to the point where he wanted to just tear it all off.

A sex demon could have helped him through it. Ken wasn't supposed to be there. Niall was going to be in and out in less than an hour, high on dream dust. But no. No, that wasn't what happened. Ken was here. Why was here? Why was he here? Niall wanted to cry in his frustration.

And then he was unceremoniously dragged outside, the whole time digging his nails into his palm. As soon as they were outside, Niall tried to wrench his wrist from Ken's tight grasp.

"Will you let go already? I was on my way out, or didn't you see that?" He totally was, too. Backing up, that meant he was about to leave. He didn't need Ken to try and drag him out like some disappointed mama cat with its wandering runt.

A lifetime of addiction couldn't be undone in three weeks and Ken knew that, but he had hoped that Niall would help himself. He hoped that Niall would want to change, and that the drugs and alcohol and vampires weren't more important than reclaiming his family and his old life. Day by day, as things grew worse and worse, that hope dwindled.

But Ken still kept trying. He didn't give up easily. What he did give up, he regretted for a lifetime.

When Niall jerked his wrist away, Ken let go. He bit his tongue, holding back his disappointment. Niall wasn't feeling well and the withdrawals were driving him to say and do things that he didn't mean. That was how Ken justified his attitude and his sometimes harsh words. Sometimes they were downright cruel and it was as if he simply didn't realize what he was doing was hurting someone else.

Or maybe he did. Maybe he did it anyway, despite the knowledge. That wasn't the Niall that Ken used to know but he supposed that... this Niall wasn't the same one from the past. Ken saw glimmers of him at points, but he didn't know if there was enough of that old Niall left in there.

He didn't look at Niall; instead, his gaze was on the ground. Ken swallowed and ate the words just at the tip of his tongue. He breathed in deeply and willed himself to stay calm. "Please go home."

When even Ken couldn't look at him, things were pretty bad. Sometimes, Niall thought there was nothing left at all between them. Sometimes when he looked at Ken, he was as far away as he was before they met again. Somewhere else, somewhere Niall couldn't reach. The past Ken and the current Ken blurred with his sweat and tears sometimes and he held onto him some nights, begging, pleading for something, anything to make the night easier to get through. Niall couldn't even remember the last time he slept peacefully.

No, he could. It was the night JC snuck him the prystal. That was the last time he slept like a baby. After that, it was nightmare after night terror, flailing, shouting, flinching, and wincing. Less volatile, he woke up with eyes wetted by tears, salt on his tongue, pillow bathed in sorrows of the past.

The withdrawals made things so difficult. Life itself was hard. But it was unbearable now. Nothing felt good. Nothing tasted good. All he really wanted to do was curl up in a dark hole and stay there. It was amazing he even left the apartment for this. And fate would throw Ken into his path. If he believed god wasn't real or that he wasn't dead if he ever did exist, then he would have to wonder what he wanted from him, what he was meant to gain from Ken.

Sobriety, maybe.

"You can't trust me to just go home," Niall said in his sassiest tone, and then with an awful sickness in the pit of his stomach, he realized that Ken was-- "You're giving up on me!" His eyes widened and he grabbed onto Ken's arms, trying to use them to make Ken face him. He stuck his face in Ken's face to try and get him to look at him. "You absolute... You're giving up on me!"

He let go of Ken, completely obliterated by that realization. The one person... His arms were immediately around himself, to protect himself. Armor up. He stepped back and down, off the curb. Then he turned and he stalked off, across the street. When he turned around, he called out, "You're already fucked. You shouldn't have brought Jem. They know about him."

And then he was cinching the drawstrings on his hoodie tight around his face before he continued to stalk off down the street.

Was it worth fighting for Niall when Niall didn't want to save himself? Ken had to ask himself that a lot of nights. Every night. Sometimes he saw the road ahead and it was all bumps and hills but never once did he think to give up on Niall. The answer was always yes--yes, it was worth it.

Even when Niall was at his worst, Ken was at his most determined. Losing Niall wasn't an option. He said it, didn't he? He did--he said it. It was no good without Niall. No good if they weren't together. Life wasn't worth living without Niall.

Desperation saw Ken travel across the globe to find him so why would he give up now, when he finally had Niall?

He wanted Niall to get out of the area, in case things got ugly. Niall was safe at home; Ken had protection there. Out here, and especially with a team of hunters behind him, he couldn't focus all on Niall and Ken would never forgive himself if Niall was injured on his watch. Once the job was done, he could hurry on home and sit Niall down and get to the bottom of things.

But Niall, he misunderstood. Ken was jolted out of his thoughts as Niall thrust his face close, and then withdrew with absurd accusations on his lips. By the time Ken understood what he was trying to say, Niall was across the street. He was walking away with a misunderstanding. But Jem--they knew about Jem?

Ken didn't know what to do. Jem was in danger but Niall was walking away thinking that Ken was giving up. There wasn't time to think--the hunters were walking into a trap. If he let Niall walk away now, God only knew where he might end up. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, Ken's mind raced and he felt a sheen of cold sweat break out all over him.

"Niall!"

He didn't know what it said that, faced with the choice between saving a group of men and saving one man, he ran after the one. He ran hard and caught up--Ken was fast and light on his feet, no one could deny that--and he grabbed onto Niall's arm. "Niall stop! I'm not--I'm not giving up on you. I just want you to go home where it's safe!" Ken looked over his shoulder at the brothel, at the innocent building that in the daytime appeared totally harmless. But inside was a nest of monsters, preying on people like Niall.

"Please, go home. I'll meet you there, after this job--" He heard a sickening sound from within the building--a sound suspiciously like a gunshot.

"Right, you really think I think you trust me to go home where it's safe?" Niall retorted, arms still wrapped around himself like they could act as a shield against anything else Ken had to say. But he said he wasn't giving up. Niall couldn't think straight, though he tried. The whole... "rehab" thing took a lot out of a person and he didn't know how to tell Ken just how difficult it really was. Sometimes, he was certain he was going to push Ken away with his petulance and his stubborn resistance to the new regime Ken had him living through.

It wasn't all bad, though. Some days were just worse than others. And he was getting past it, he thought. Sometimes. But then the nightmares reared their ugly heads and all he could think about was the brother he couldn't save. Useless. Worthless. Funny, he thought he was happy with his life before Ken came and poked all these holes in it. Just another jolly junkie, peddling stolen goods for cash and trading his body for drugs. But he thought he had an upbeat personality through it all.

Without drugs, though, things were... well, they were significantly less fun.

Ken was all but begging him to go home, so he was about to speak when both of them were interrupted by the telltale sound of gunfire. That wouldn't be the inhabitants of the brothel--they had other ways to deal with their adversaries. So...

"I told you! They knew! You shouldn't have come here, especially all together like this!"

Home was a lot safer than out here, with gunshots in the air and a nest of supernaturals just behind them. Ken didn't flinch as another shot rang out, this time louder, and the sound of men's voices permeated the air. He took another desperate look behind him and his grasp on Niall's arm tightened.

"Go home, Niall. Please. I'll meet you back at the flat." He turned back to Niall. "I have to go. They need help."

They thought it would be easy, given that the brothel wasn't popular during the daytime. There would be the occasional junkie but for the most part, the building only came alive after dark. Fewer people meant fewer casualties. They didn't want to hurt anyone innocent—just the monsters that hunted men.

"Go." Ken let go. The desperate look was trained onto Niall, for just a second. He wished with all his being that he could go with Niall, but he had a job and he had responsibilities. Ken turned and rushed back across the street, hand on the silver knives that had been handed down through the generations of hunters in his family.

Knives against guns. Humans against supernaturals. It was always going to be an uphill battle but this was what they all trained for.

Inside the brothel, Jem still held his shotgun at the ready, having already killed two supers. The others were all stock still, waiting. And Jem did his best not to look any of them in the eyes as he came over to Kyle. He put his hand on Kyle's shoulder. This all started when they tried their game on Kyle, taking advantage of that moment when that accursed filthy rag of a man called Niall walked in and destroyed their entire raid.

For fuck's sake. This should have gone much easier and here they were. Kyle blinked and shook his head and said he was all right now. But it was only himself and Jem in the lobby. The others had scattered to make sure others weren't running in the chaos. Chances that they were going to catch them ALL here and now were growing slimmer by the minute and Jem fucking hated it.

As soon as Ken made it back, Jem barked at him to check the basement. He saw at least one of them scramble down there in the exodus. In the meantime, he shot one more succubus in the face while telling Kyle to restrain the last one in the room with them.

The problem with incubi and succubi was that they never operated alone. They knew their vulnerabilities and they covered for that in some way. Not all supernaturals relied on their powers. Many, in Ken's experience, were more than happy to turn a gun or a knife onto hunters because it was easy and quick and sometimes the hardest to defend against. He could detect magic, maybe ward against it. But he couldn't ward off a bullet.

When he heard a gunshot, he feared the worst. That someone might have turned a gun onto the hunters inside. But once he burst through the door, it was Jem toting a gun and the bodies on the ground indicated that he had held his own against the supernaturals inside. Ken breathed a sigh of relief and only nodded silent agreement.

The raid had failed, however; that much was obvious. Ken hated it too, but he pushed his emotions back down into the dark and focused on his job. He passed a few rooms with their doors open; one of them had a human inside, still riding the high. She barely lifted her head when Ken passed. The monster preying on her had long since fled, though.

Stealthily he crept down into the basement, treading lightly. Ken's fingers flexed against the handle of his knife; he had it ready, but it wasn't drawn in case there were people down here. At the bottom of the steps was a long hallway with doors leading into rooms. Ken gently eased the first one open; empty. He heard a scuffle somewhere down the hall, however, and crept further along. It was dimly lit, but not pitch black, thankfully. He could see fairly well.

Just as he got to the end, where the sound had come from, it stopped. The scuffling stopped. Cautiously he pushed at the door; it creaked open and inside was a huddled figure in the middle of the floor. "Sir." Ken swiftly looked over his shoulder; no one behind him. "Sir, please get up."

The man shuddered and Ken could hear the breath rattling in his throat. He slowly got to his feet and swayed as he did so, and Ken saw his smile too late. Something collided into him from behind, sinking daggers into his shoulder. Teeth. Weapons. It didn't matter; it was done with silent efficiency. Immediately, Ken whipped out his own dagger and stabbed, turning to see some kind of dark, shadowy beast.

It let out a hissing sound as his dagger sank in but with a flick of its head and superhuman strength, it sent Ken crashing into the wall. He had time to let out one warning shout before the beast clamped down on him again, this time aiming for his throat, but Ken threw up an arm and felt its teeth crunching into the flesh and bone.

Fuck. FUCK. Jem couldn't stand it when a job went upside down this badly. Not only had they all been compromised but now the entire mission had been thrown to shit. The chaos labored around Jem as he hefted his shotgun, ready to take out any other supers that came around but they had scattered all over the brothel. They were now dealing with supers in their own territory. Jem had to make a decision: to continue taking out as many of the supers as he could right here and now and risk their lives in the process or he could call for a retreat with all their necks still intact.

Jem let out another curse and he called out to the others on the radio, telling them to take out whatever they encountered but to make their way back together. Better together than not. It was bad enough so many had been killed by one by one. This was beyond that. This was pure war on their turf.

FUCK. He should have thought this over better. What the hell was wrong with that little shit, Niall, and why did he drag Ken into his sinkhole?

"Repeat: meet in the lobby and prepare for exit."

Some of the guys were coming back after previously hunting down their scattering prey. Some of them looked like they had a tough time, others as though they hadn't even encountered anything beyond the lobby.

Counting heads, Jem frowned.

"Where's Ken?"

The world tilted into a kaleidoscope of colors for Ken as he felt himself being hurled around the basement, and his head thudded painfully off of one of the walls. Blinking away the starbursts exploding inside his skull, he whipped around and flailed out with his dagger.

The beast was obviously injured but it kept going with inhuman stamina. Having one arm incapacitated meant that he had no leverage, and he briefly felt a cold, cold fear seizing his heart. If he died here...

If he left Niall all alone...

The thought nearly stopped his heart.

But then desperation set in and he began to kick out and slash away with almost frenetic energy, scoring several well-aimed hits. The beast fell back and Ken noted almost absently through the haze of his own blood that it was bleeding shadows. Its blood looked like spilled ink pooling on the floor.

Then suddenly there were voices and the creature turned onto them, as Ken slid to the ground, exhausted and weak from blood loss.

Home. Here he was. Home.

Tapping his toes against the windowsill, where he sat on top of the back of the couch, the window tilted open to let his cigarette smoke waft outside. Ken already complained about the stink of cigarettes inside--besides, it was illegal or whatever--so he was trying to do the right thing. But instead, he still felt that skin crawling chill, this time up his spine.

I shouldn't have left.

Ken told him to. Ken told him to. But all Niall saw when he closed his eyes was his brother, dying again and again while Niall wasn't quick enough to save him. Logically, he knew the guilt wasn't justified here; if Jem and a bunch of qualified and active hunters couldn't keep Ken safe, what made him think that he, the lowly black sheep, could? Still, the creep was real, and it was cold and it was foreboding.

Tapping his toes again, he looked over at his cheap phone, sitting on the couch bed, where he'd tossed it when he came home. Smashing the cigarette against the windowsill then flicking it outside, he shut the window behind him and slid down off the back of the couch and over the pillows, letting them spill away from his body as he grasped the phone.

As Ken eddied in and out of consciousness, he heard voices. Angry voices. One sounded panicked; another was calm. Someone was cursing right by his ear and every bump and jostle of the car hurt. He knew he was in a car because he heard the screech of wheels and the hum of the engine.

"...ugh..."

He stirred but even just the motion of his head made a wave of nausea churn through him. Ken retched and felt someone easing him up. When he tried to open his eyes, only one responded; the other was crusted shut.

"Niall?" His voice was groggy, a low croak in the back of the throat. "Home. Take... me home."

"We're taking you to the hospital," someone said, and Ken shook his head—which he instantly regretted.

"No. Home." Blindly he felt around for the latch in the car door. "Home. Take me home."

"...Jem? What do you think?"

Ken's breathing was heavy and labored, but... it was just a little scratch. Some blood. The beast had only gotten his arm and shoulder, not his head or torso. "I'm... fine. Take me home." He had to get back to Niall. Back to the flat. The one driving thought circled around and around in his scrambled brain as he fought weakly with the other hunters. "Home."

"No," Jem said firmly. "You're going straight to the hospital. We have to have you checked out. You know how many of ours have been turned by these monsters? Huh? No. We're making damn sure you're clean first. So stop fucking talking about home."

Besides, home was no longer where Ken thought it was, if it was up to Jem. He was going to come back with him and the other guys. Their connection had already been witnessed and confirmed, so what was the point in storing him away from prying eyes? Besides that, Niall fucking Gallagher was part of the problem here. The fucking idiot was the reason their mission went to hell so fast.

Fuck.

It went sideways so fast that his head spun thinking about it.

"No."

He put all of the authority that he could muster behind the word. Ken pushed away from Kyle, who had his phone for some reason, and sat up straighter. He swallowed hard and took in a few deep breaths. It helped a little. Not much, but enough. Ken looked down at his mangled arm; it looked bad. It hurt like nobody's business too and he couldn't move it even a fraction but he gritted his teeth through the pain.

"I wasn't bitten. Turned. That thing. Not vampire or were. It was... something else. Shadows." He closed his eyes for a few long moments as dizziness swept over him. "Was magic. I have... at home. Antidotes and cures. Charms."

He couldn't convince Jem that he needed to be home because he wanted to see Niall with his own two eyes--alive and whole and unharmed. But if he used that as an excuse--something related to hunting and warding off dark magic--then maybe Jem would agree. Besides, the hospital was useless if he'd been turned. The most they could do was bandage him up and Ken could find a way to get that done himself.

"Take me home. Now."

No. Jem set his lips in a thin line. There was no way he was just taking Ken back to that place, especially with all the crap he was spewing. He understood that he might have items of use back home but he couldn't take Ken there. While he'd been in Hazleton, Jem had located the people to go to when they were in need. Hunters had each other's backs and that meant there were medical staff around to take care of him. They couldn't just take Ken to any doctor, especially if he'd been bitten and he was going to turn. If that was the case, Jem would put him down himself.

To Kyle, he said softly, "Go to Niall's and retrieve Ken's shit."

He pulled over to let Kyle out and kept Ken trapped in the back seat between Sinead and Corey. Then he drove away, leaving Kyle to take care of getting whatever things Ken thought might help. He spoke as if he were taking Ken back "home" to Niall's place but the whole time, he was heading into the mountains, where there was a facility set up for them. The road grew bumpy along the way and it looked like Ken had passed out.

"Not sure he's gonna make it!" Sinead shouted over the rumbling of the car's motor. Jem cursed under his breath but he kept going, turning down into what almost felt like a pit. All around them, growth disguised the fence that opened up for them as they arrived. Two people were waiting to place Ken onto a gurney and get him inside. Jem waited while they brought him inside, then looked at the others grimly.

"I'm going in. Sinead, Corey, you go back and make sure Kyle makes it. Try to stay together for now. We don't know who knows what now."

Once everything was arranged, he left the car to the pair and headed into the medical facility where Ken had been taken.

God fucking damnit.

Kyle trudged up the stairs of the shithole that called itself an apartment, muttering under his breath. How could one man fuck everything up so badly? The raid was supposed to be a cinch. An easy job--in and out.

But then Niall came around and while Ken was outside babysitting his junkie ass, all hell broke loose. Kyle slammed a fist into the wall in passing as he reached the landing of the third storey and shoved open the door with his foot.

The apartment manager said 3B. He spotted it immediately in peeling blue letters on a flimsy-looking door, and he marched up to it. "Open the fucking door Niall," Kyle barked authoritatively, and followed that up with a kick.

Wh-what was happening? Niall waited. Waited. Waited. Nothing. He was starting to feel the worse stages of anxiety drawing over him like a shroud. Not knowing quite what to do with himself when all of his substances had been robbed for him, he shakily tapped out another cigarette and struggled to light it. His eyes remained outside the window, waiting.

And then there was a loud, intrusive knock. Niall threw his cigarette onto the back of the couch and immediately had to leap down onto it and pat it to put out the small fire it started on the couch bed. Then he froze. The voice wasn't Ken's. It was... Kyle's. And Kyle was none too friendly with Niall. Haha... that rhymed. No! No, he had to... do something. Scrambling off the bed, Niall tried to make himself presentable, pulling his silk robe closed and crossing the room barefoot. He swept his hair back and peered through the peephole.

Kyle. But... no Ken. Niall hesitantly opened the door but kept the chain lock up. He stared through the gap warily.

"Where's Ken?"

"None of your fucking business. Open the door, I need Ken's shit."

Kyle glared through the narrow gap in the door at Niall, none too pleased to be here. Behind him, he heard footsteps and two of the others joined him. Nobody here was exactly fond of Niall, and their expressions were one and the same--annoyed, angry, disgusted.

"Don't make trouble, laddie," Corey said in that lazy way of his, flicking Niall a crooked, cold smile. "Just open the door like a good boy and we'll be gone before you know it."

"No," he said with the sassy face to go with it. No, he was not going to open the door to Kyle so he could come inside and raid all of Ken's stuff. And why did he need to take Ken's stuff anyway? A cold shiver ran down his spine, though he tried his best not to show it. He hated looking pathetic in front of these guys. And it wasn't just Kyle anymore. Two others were now flanking him and they were all giving him that terrible stare like they smelled something dead just under their nose. It almost made Niall want to check under his pits to make sure it wasn't him.

"You're the ones making trouble," he said back, putting his hand on the knob. "I'm going to tell the superintendent you're trying to break into my place."

But what he really wanted was Ken. He wanted to know--where was Ken? Why were they coming for his stuff? After Ken stopped answering him, and he didn't show up even though Niall waited by the window like a master-sick dog waiting for its owner, his gut said... something bad happened.

"Ah, well now, that's a shame," Corey said in the same smooth tone, clicking his tongue a few times. "I s'pose we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way."

Kyle exchanged a meaningful look with Corey and then Sinead. They all nodded. As Corey and Sinead stepped back a pace, Kyle lifted a foot and planted his boot square against the door with a shuddering thud. If Niall wasn't opening the goddamn door then he was going to kick it down.

They didn't have time to bandy words about. Ken was probably dying—or worse, turning. If whatever shit he had could save him was inside, Kyle had to get it. He had to try his best to save a brother—a fellow hunter. Nobody was getting in the way of that. Especially not a piece of shit like Niall Gallagher.

"Open the fucking door or I'm kicking it down!" He said harshly, as he gave the door another kick.

"No!" Niall shouted back, trying to shove the door closed before Kyle tried to bust his way in. Too late. He gave the door a good kick and to Niall's horror, he could see the chain's hook coming free from the wall. Heart bursting, Niall raced for the couch bed and grabbed onto his phone with both hands, holding it in front of his chest like a child might clutch a teddy bear.

"You're breaking and entering!" Niall cried. "This is illegal! A--a breach of privacy! I have rights, you know! I'm a citizen of this town and my superintendent is going to hear about this and--"

The door flew off the hinges with a dramatic crunch, slamming to the ground and denting the wooden flooring. Niall immediately leapt up onto his couch bed, standing up there with his legs together like a cartoon leaping away from a scary mouse.

"Get out! Get OUT! JC! JC! JORDAN! HELP! HELP! HEL--!" Sinead promptly shut him up by grasping him by the ear, pulling him down to his knees and turning his body so that she held his back against her front and slipped a sharp knife over his throat.

"Keep shouting," she warned him, "and see where that gets you."

Niall made a small sound but didn't continue carrying on with his protests. He did, however, watch as his place was ransacked and Ken's things in particular were picked through.

"What are you looking for? What happened to Ken?"

"Shut the fecker up," Kyle snarled as he tore the place apart, looking for whatever Ken thought would help him stave off the change. He didn't turn as Sinead grabbed Niall, and instead helped Corey tear apart the closet. Inside, at the very back, was a brown bag whose contents he turned out onto the couch bed.

"This is his bag." There were some charms inside, along with a few weapons and some sealed canisters. Not knowing what was inside, Kyle wasn't about to open them, so he bundled everything back into the bag and tossed it to Corey, who slung it over one shoulder. Just to be thorough, Kyle checked the bathroom too and satisfied himself that nothing there was of value. Lucky for them, Niall's shithole apartment was small—only two rooms.

"All right, let's get going." He didn't answer Niall's questions.

Corey, however, paused at the door. "It's better if you don't ask too many questions, laddie. We'll take care of Ken."

"Come on. Jem's waiting." Kyle pushed Corey out and nodded to Sinead, who let go of Niall and wiped her blade against the side of her leg. He shoved aside the splintered door on the way out, and swept down the hall. A door opened somewhere down the hall but he ignored it, intent on getting back to the medical facility with Ken's things.

Ken woke up in agony, with his arm on fire. He moaned and turned, trying to grasp at something with his uninjured arm, and felt hands pushing at him. There was a babble of voices, none of them Niall's, and he knew even in his addled state that he wasn't home. Niall wouldn't have let all these people in. The flat was their sanctuary, their home away from home, where they could be together without fear of judgment or scorn.

"Hold him down. Nina, hand me the syringe."

Something cold pushed into the crook of his arm and despite Ken's thrashing, he felt whatever was inside being injected into him. The blackness claimed him again and he fell back, as the voices closed in on him.

When he next awoke, he was alone. It took enormous effort just to open his eyes and when he looked around, he didn't recognize the room. There were blinds partially drawn over the window and golden-red rays of sunlight streamed in. Vaguely, Ken recognized that it was beginning to get dark and that the sun was setting.

Niall

Niall was never more than a thought away.

Ken pushed himself up and felt tubes clattering against his arm. He ripped them out and stood, swaying. Niall. He promised that he'd get back home, and Jem promised that he would take him there. Jem had lied. And Niall, was he waiting? Was he still there, wondering about Ken? Was he safe? Nothing mattered more to Ken than Niall being safe. Nothing. Not even his own health.

He stumbled across the room, still groggy and muzzy, but determined to get out. It took him several tries just to turn the doorknob and when he fell into the hallway, he was met by darkness. The smell of disinfectant told him that he was inside some type of hospital or clinic, after-hours. Ken heard low voices coming from one end of the hall so he staggered down the opposite end, hoping to find his way out and back to Niall.

When the voices grew alarmed, he hastened to find the exit. A lit Exit sign led him to the back door, which he shoved against with all his strength. The blast of cold air from outside lent strength to his clumsy limbs and he staggered as though drunk out into the back alley.

"Niall..." Using the wall as a guide, Ken made his way out into the street. He didn't know where he was but if he kept walking, he might eventually find a recognizable place or sign or street name. The injured arm dangled by his side, bandaged up but bleeding again. He felt the warm drops sliding down his hand and absently kept the hand against his trouser leg, so as not to leave a blood trail.

Snoop. Snoop. Snoop.

Actually, he liked investigate better but he felt more like a snoop, wandering around this part of town. It was an awfully... quiet part of an already quiet little town. At least, after that debacle with the vampires, yeah. That was. Yeah. Kaleo raised a brow as he caught a whiff of blood on the breeze. The air was cool, a growing breeze in the air, clouds in the night sky. He knew a fight when he smelt one though. Or... he thought it was one when he looked up and saw the half-dead man shambling down the street.

Kaleo quickly took in his surroundings. Nobody currently after the guy but that could change in a matter of seconds. Not bothering to waste another moment, Kaleo jogged across the street toward the guy and caught him by the back in case he fell back.

"Hey, there. Looks like you could use a hand."

Spy, spy, spy.

Tony hated how a simple assignment was now turning into a fucking nightmare. Their higher-ups were pissed, their families were pissed—Tony's fiancee was having fits planning their wedding by herself—and everybody in the bloody town was pissed out of their minds. This whole town was like something out of a bad dream.

He followed Kaleo at a distance, so as not to appear suspicious. During the daytime, they were supposed to be the newly wed gay couple on their honeymoon. Whoever decided on their backstory was going to get a nutshot from Tony whenever they got back to HQ.

But at night, they didn't have to pretend and their job took precedence. Tony elected to keep to the shadows, in case somebody was following Kaleo, who presented himself as a giant target. At this time of the night, with the sun about to set, the freaks came out and it was Tony's job as his partner to make sure that he didn't get ambushed or caught off-guard.

When Kaleo broke off and ran towards a zombie-looking man, Tony cursed. He followed, trotting up in time to see the man falling into Kaleo. "He's bleeding," Tony said as he came up to inspect the stranger, who was muttering in a low voice. "What's he saying? Ni... Niall? 3B? Here, shift him this way. Let me look at his arm."

Clearly the arm was injured, but it had been expertly bandaged. Whatever wound underneath had simply opened and was bleeding again. Tony frowned as he ran gentle fingers over the gauze. "Check his pockets and see if he has any ID." Meanwhile, he tried to tie the bandages tighter to stem the flow of blood.

"Looks pretty bad," Kaleo admitted, as he turned the man over so that Tony could get a better look at him. Honestly, he looked a step away from death, with ashen skin--a sure sign he'd bled out quite a bit. On top of that, it looked like he had recently been in a hospital; there was the forming bruise on the arm where a line had been inserted, probably to give blood and medicine. Why would a man leave the hospital in this shape?

Kaleo checked for ID and found it. The guy's name was in his wallet, along with some other usual essential items. There was a phone, too, which he handed over to Tony.

"Looks like his name is Kenneth Branagh. Branagh?" He tried the name out a couple times. People rarely got HIS name right first try either. Either first or last, which amused him, having grown up with it. Kenneth here might be the same. He might be the kind who got annoyed, though. Hard to tell, with a man whose face was only contorted in pain before he passed out.

"Think we should return him to the hospital. Looks like that's where he came from."

It was within walking distance, too.

"There's a clinic nearby too, if I remember correctly," Tony said absently as he flicked through the phone. He saw on the idle screen that the guy had a message, but didn't know the unlock code so gingerly he took one of the man's hands and pressed the thumb to the home button. It worked! He glanced up at Kaleo with a surprised little smile.

"Looks like he got a message just a couple of hours ago. I'll try to get in touch with somebody he knows." Wouldn't hurt to let his friend or family know that he wasn't dead--just really, really close to it, judging by the pale, waxy complexion of his face. As he messaged somebody named Niall, he heard the man groaning and stirring.

"...home..." Kenneth Branagh muttered, and Tony lowered the phone to look at him. His eyes weren't even open, but his lips moved and mouthed the word 'home' several more times. Luckily, somebody answered the texts.

"Hey, his friend says they live together." Tony inspected the heavily bandaged arm and shoulder again. "I think he'll make it, he just needs a lot of rest. Whoever put the bandages on did a pretty good job. C'mon, let's get him to his friend's place. Seems like that's where he wants to go anyway."

"Hospital, clinic, that's what I meant," he said. Whichever. Actually, that was what he meant, the clinic. As far as he knew there wasn't any hospital located in the small town; they had to go to Portland for one of those. Small towns. Inconvenient. He hadn't yet told Tony that his family decided they wanted to come to see him here and he wished fervently that he never told them about where he was. Some small town on work? Why couldn't they just stay home?

Kaleo let out a sigh as he heard the man say home. Yeah, he got it. He got it, really. After Tony checked the wound again, Kaleo took care to lift the man gently and followed Tony, who seemed to have gotten in contact with a friend that could direct them to the man's home.

As they approached a rather rundown looking apartment building, he saw a man waving madly from the third floor, hanging so far out of the screen less window that he looked like he was seconds from tumbling head over heels straight onto hard concrete.

"Hey!" Kaleo barked gruffly at the man. "Get inside before you kill yourself!"

"...he's wearing a woman's robe," Tony muttered to Kaleo as he looked up at the man hanging out of a third floor window. That guy was definitely wearing a woman's flowery robe and he didn't know if he should be disturbed by the robe itself, or the fact that none of this failed to surprise him. In fact, a man wearing a woman's robe was tame compared to the shit that he and Kaleo had seen so far.

"We're coming up!" he shouted at the guy--Niall, a name that he couldn't pronounce and didn't try to. Tony eased open the front door so that Kaleo could carry the guy inside, and then followed him into a dingy, dark, gray lobby. There was no elevator; a rusty door led to a flight of stairs and the stairwell was every bit as dingy, dark and gray as the lobby.

Tony raised his brows at a naked needle sitting innocently off to the side of the stairs. The man in Kaleo's arms didn't look like a junkie. In fact, he looked like he could be a model or an actor. And sure, actors and models fell upon hard times often, but Tony would've thought that even a basic apartment wouldn't be out of reach.

Still, not his business to judge. The guy did visit a brothel, if his friend was to be believed.

On the third floor, he sought out 3B and knocked and when the door opened, he stepped aside so that Kaleo could carry the injured man inside. Seeing that there was only one bed--a couch bed no less--he went to it and shifted some of the blankets and pillows around so that the guy could be laid down easily.

"Do you know first-aid, or do you want me to tell you how to bandage him up if he starts bleeding again?" he asked the curly-haired 'friend' who looked like he was about to shit himself with anxiety. The guy in Kaleo's arms moaned and muttered his friend's name and Tony had that feeling that they were probably gay. Which it seemed like everybody in town was, and that was probably why his and Kaleo's backstory didn't draw so much as a suspicious glance, which was both a relief and slightly insulting.

He couldn't even tell his fiancee about this goddamn job, and she kept wanting to fly out to see him. That was definitely ill-advised and Tony was running out of excuses to keep her at home!

As soon as somebody knocked on the... well, the doorjamb since the door had been knocked off its hinges, Niall immediately floated over to the pair of men that greeted him there.

"Sorry about the door there were these guys that came in to get Ken's things because I think they were trying to steal him back but he's with me, I promise you. This is where he lives." He beamed at the one who was holding Ken, even though he was quite intimidating. He didn't look all that pleased by Niall's gibbering either, only raising a brow and then looking over at his friend. But he did move toward the couch bed when the man got it all ready to lay Ken down. Niall stuffed his knuckles into his mouth as he watched the big man slowly and gently--GENTLY--set Ken into the bed.

There was blood. A lot of it. Blood wasn't new to Niall's life. He'd been beaten to a pulp before and his father liked to use switches to discipline him, which always left bleeding welts wherever they struck. Blood was also prevalent in some of the drug using circles he was a part of. So the blood itself didn't bother him. The fact that it was coming out of a pale and barely conscious Ken did.

"Yeah," Niall said faintly, eyes not leaving Ken as he hovered nearby, swaying from side to side, unable to stay steal. Then he shook his head, clearing it. "I mean no! No, I don't... I don't... I mean, I know how to stop bleeding from a needle. This this this is... I don't know what to do. I don't know."

The really big guy with the Hair crossed his arms and looked over at his friend. "Maybe we should've found that clinic."

"No! No clinic! Just... just teach me." He paused. "Did you... did he have any bags on him? There should be some things in there to help."

"We didn't see any bags. Just him, staggering around in the street."

A cheap apartment like this, Tony was surprised there was working water and electricity. He'd seen worse, though. He'd been to worse places than a sleepy little down in the middle of nowhere and yet he had never been this unsettled before. Even the man's injuries were strange. From what Tony could see of his wounds, it looked like he'd been mauled.

While the friend jabbered on, Tony went over to grab a roll of gauze. Some people went all to pieces at the sight of blood and this guy looked about ready to faint. The worry was genuine, though. Tony recognized that, at the very least, so he gently pulled the man over to the couch bed and then got onto one knee.

"If it starts bleeding again, you have to unwrap the outer layer like this. And then you start rolling the new bandages around his arm, like so. They have to be firm, but not too tight. It's better to keep that arm elevated while you work, so he doesn't lose too much blood. If the bleeding doesn't stop, you'll have to call an ambulance."

The guy already looked like he'd lost quite a bit of blood, but Tony was heartened to see that he had stopped bleeding--at least for the time being. The bandages were soaked through, but from earlier. He handed the gauze over to the friend. "Got it? If you're not sure, it's better to get him to a hospital. Otherwise, he'll bleed out."

"...iall..." The man gasped in a low, rattling breath and his free hand jerked out, the fingers grasping at air. "...ni...all..."

"Make sure he doesn't move that arm too much." Tony straightened and gave the friend an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"No bags..." he echoed, feeling lost. So those absolute wankers came into the place, broke it all up, and then stole most of Ken's things and then didn't even get back to him in time to use the shit they took? What the bloody hell?! Lowering his face into his hands, he scrunched up his fingers and closed up his eyes and he tried to remember how to breathe.

"Aaaaahhhhh!" he shouted in muffled frustration. But the less scary of the two men came over and he was calm and polite as he showed Niall what to do if the bleeding started again. From the looks of things, all the blood he'd seen had been staunched earlier, so Ken's bandaging made him look worse off than he was. With new, cleaner bandages on, he didn't look nearly as bad. Except for the weakness. The pale color. The way he couldn't really open his eyes. Niall couldn't stop fidgeting.

"Hey there buddy," Niall said, trying to sound soft and reassuring but sounding more like a bleating sheep, he was sure. His hand took Ken's. In this moment, Niall felt stupid and helpless in a way that scared him. It was a lot like looking after his little brother. The same love and affection--well, alright, a different love and affection--but the same fears. That he wasn't good enough for this. That when these men left and it was just him and Ken, something bad was going to happen.

"Hey, hey," he said, turning toward the two men. "You wouldn't happen to... be bodyguards or anything like that, would you? Because somebody already broke in earlier today and..."

"Sorry. We--we're just tourists."

Yadda yadda yadda, same old story he'd been telling around town. Tourists, honeymooners, totally in love, etc. etc. But this time Tony felt a little badly because the friend looked so distressed and so unsure of himself that he wondered if he should've listened to Kaleo, and brought the man back to the clinic.

"You're better off calling the cops if... people... have been bothering you." Drug dealers or something, by the looks of it. Tony glanced at Kaleo; he tilted his head slightly towards the door to indicate his desire to get out of this unfortunate situation.

"Just remember what I told you, okay? Elevate the arm if he bleeds, make sure he doesn't move too much and call an ambulance if you think he's in danger. Try not to leave him for a couple of days. After that, he'll be okay."

"Oh." Disappointment. Well. If they were just tourists, he couldn't really blame them for just wanting to get the heck out of here. They probably already thought they were in way too deep. But... they were around this area at night. Where they found Ken wasn't that far away from the apartments, since they showed up fairly soon after calling. Then again, they didn't know this area was... not the good part of town.

The big shouldered guy looked at his friend as if he had something to say but chose not to say it, which only put Niall more on edge. Niall let out a sigh and gently stroked a few of Ken's fingers as he held onto his hand. He nodded.

"Elevate, no moving, ambulance. I get it." No leaving for a couple of days. Ah. Niall hoped he could fulfill that one. His wanderlust could get the better of him. So could his addictions. Even the more innocent ones. A trip to the corner store for a box of ciggies, for example. He bit his lower lip and leaned back slightly, crossing his leg over his thigh. Okay. Well. He would just have to... have to man up. It was only a couple of days. He side eyed Ken and then dropped his head back. God, this was going to be hard. The pressure was already on, knowing that something or somebody depended on him and his actions.

"If you can't do this," said the gruff sounding big man, "tell us now."

Before he could say anything else, Niall put his free hand up. "No, no, no. I got this, I got this. Don't worry. He's my... friend. I'm not that dumb. I'll make sure he's fine. Promise."

Great, being judged by a couple of tourist types that didn't even know him or Ken. Figured!

The big guy nodded toward the doorway before heading toward it himself.

"Th..." he started faintly before popping up and raising his voice, "Thanks, by the way! I really appreciate the help!"

"Niall..."

Through a haze of pain, Ken heard voices. Men's voices, and he thought that he was back at the clinic or hospital again, restrained and kept away from Niall. The hand that was clutching at Niall clenched, tightened around his fingers.

Ken struggled to sit up. To get away. Get back home, to Niall, to make sure that he was safe and sound and that the vampire in 3A and the drug dealer in 3C hadn't gotten to him. Even if it meant going against Jem and his group, he didn't care. Ken didn't care as long as he could keep the one person who mattered the most to him safe.

"No. No!" He opened his eyes to familiar surroundings, yet he didn't recognize anything. Ken blindly groped for a door, shifting the blankets around. They swathed around his legs, hampering him, and in his deluded state he imagined that he'd been bound. "Let... go. Niall! Niall!!"

"Yes?"

His voice was too quiet or too soft; Ken didn't hear it. Instead, he began struggling and it was obvious by the bead of sweat on his forehead that he was feverish. The men were leaving but the big one stopped to look over as Ken started to shout the word NO! Oh! Oh! Niall was supposed to make sure he didn't move! Quickly, Niall dove atop him, but as gingerly as he could so he wasn't crushing anything. There was no telling if he was injured anywhere else. All Niall knew about was the bad arm. Funny, that. Now they both had bad arms.

"Ken! Ken!!" He was kicking his legs around under the blankets and a not-so-well placed knee caught Niall in the groin. Letting out a low, guttural sound, Niall curled into himself for a moment. "Ouch..." he said breathlessly while he tried to recover. But Ken was just going to keep going at it so... Niall raised himself up slightly, then straddled Ken before grabbing his face in both hands.

"Look at me, Ken," Niall demanded. "I'm right here. See? Good ol' boy Niall. Wooly. Poodles."

Home.

Home.

Ken was fixated on the idea of getting home and nothing would dissuade him. He wasn't dying. The arm, it... it would heal in time. Physical injuries were par for the course when one was a hunter, and it wasn't the first time that Ken had been hurt in the line of duty.

But if Niall thought that Ken had abandoned him... That kind of wound wouldn't heal. It never did. Breaking Niall's heart would break Ken's own—look at how long it had been since they last parted, and the gaping holes still existed in both of them. They were on tentative ground, still. Ken could never live with himself if he let Niall down again.

As a weight descended on him, he thrashed about harder, trying to break free. And he kept calling Niall's name, kept trying to let him know that he was coming home. Ken was coming home, back to him, no matter what it took.

It was a long while before words sank in, and even then he struggled against Niall's weight. Someone called his name in a familiar tone. There were pet names that he recognized. "...P-poodles?" He muttered in a daze, staring at Niall uncomprehending. "Niall...?"

"Yes, mate!" Niall cried in that shivery voice that always started to overtake him when he was on the verge of tears but doing his best to Remain Cheerful. His eyes lit up as Ken seemed to focus in on him. Niall kept his hands where they were, just so Ken didn't get any wild ideas and start looking away from him.

"It's me, Niall!" He half squealed the words out in his desperation to get them out. "Your best friend, remember? Ol' Wooly. Poodles."

He repeated the nicknames since they seemed to be helping, even if he never was too fond of Poodles--which only served to make that one stick more. Niall smiled at Ken as he caressed his cheeks, swallowing hard as he looked him over. He tried to give the wound a glimpse but for the time being, it looked like it was still okay. Hopefully. It didn't look so good when they looked at it earlier, though. Definitely not made by anything human. Of course not. But... the only things he knew to be at the brothel were incubi and succubi so he.... he didn't understand.

Oh he wanted to ask a thousand questions but he had a feeling Ken didn't have the energy in him right now for that. So instead, he slowly climbed off Ken, onto the other side of the bed. He kept his bad hand on Ken's cheek, the other being used to hold himself up as he moved. But he made sure Ken kept his eyes on him the whole time.

Slowly, he laid his head down next to Ken, stroking Ken's warm face and tendrils of hair with his fingertips. Then he moved his hand to Ken's lips.

"Time to rest now, okay, Kenny? Yeah?"

"Niall..." Ken spoke his name with wonder, as if he was hearing for the first time in his life. As though, somehow, he had been transported back to that stuffy old-fashioned drawing room, with the heavy mahogany furniture and the dark-haired boys all lined up in a row. He saw it in his mind's eye, even if his gaze was forced onto Niall. He saw the boys, Junior, Paddy, Danny, Lorcan.

And Niall, with his big, bright, hopeful smile.

"Niall." Ken relaxed and stopped fighting him, leaning his cheek against Niall's hand. He lifted his good hand to touch Niall's wrist. "I... I came back. Came back." He repeated it mindlessly, thoughts driving circles in his mind. Back home. Back to Niall. Back home, home to Niall. He kept his promise. He was home and everything was fine because Niall was safe.

He watched Niall shifting away and reflexively tried to hold on to him, but Niall's hand remained against his cheek. Ken turned into him and let out a low cry of pain as he applied too much weight to his injured arm. He laid still afterward, watching Niall, feeling his fingertips against his lips.

"Rest..." Ken sighed. Rest. He was tired. So tired now. The fight had gone out of him now that Niall was beside him, safe and sound. Ken nuzzled against him, eyes flickering. "I came back... had to get back... home... Won't leave... again..."

"Okay. Alright. I see that. See?" He widened his eyes slightly so that Ken could see that Niall could see. Ken made it back. He was home and Niall was right in front of him. See, look at that, they were even within touching distance. They were close and warm and maybe Kenny was a bit too warm. Niall couldn't tell. But he seemed like he was a bit sweatier than usual. Niall leaned forward and kissed his lug on the forehead, glad that he was there.

"But no dying on me," Niall said sternly, no longer able to look him in the eyes. He stayed where he was, then let his head gently brush Ken's. The nuzzling, the affection, that was all they needed right now, in the moment. But Niall remembered when he was much less hesitant. Niall was a naturally loving individual, despite his plethora of flaws. He loved with his whole heart, with all of his whole being. When he loved Ken, he loved him properly, he thought. He slipped his hand into his and tugged him along with him. He showed him the world beyond all the sheep pens. They slid down hills and rolled in the grass. They climbed trees, swam in creeks and lakes. They raced, wrestled, and they danced. They kissed. They slid hands over skin.

"That's right, you're home," Niall said in a broken sort of voice, not wanting to face the reality that the other hunters were right. Niall was a liability. He was going to get Ken killed. But Ken came back here. It wasn't Niall who did that and nobody controlled Ken. Nobody told him to be here except himself. Niall turned his head and kissed him again, on the side of the mouth before he settled back in, lying face to face with him on the couch bed.

"Now get some sleep, Kenny."

Ken was too out of it to notice that Niall's voice was different—that he was distraught. He was weary down to the bone and he only needed to know that Niall was with him, safe and sound and secure. Ken could protect him from anything that came their way, as long as they were together. Nothing was more important than that.

Slowly, his eyes closed as Niall's reassurances sank in; the kiss helped, too, and made him feel so much warmer. Maybe he was uncomfortably warm now, but it was nothing that Ken couldn't bear. "All right," he murmured, letting his heavy eyelids close. As darkness enveloped him, he shifted closer to Niall. Warm and close and comforted, he let sleep claim him.

Ken didn't know how long he slept, but the first few hours were restful. When he dreamed, it was abstract and scattered. Nothing made sense; flashes of memories of the past visited him, of green, rolling hills and white wooly sheep and stone farmhouses. There was Niall and Lor, Danny and Junior, even Paddy. His father flitted through briefly, causing restlessness, and then peacefulness, darkness.

When he woke, his arm was on fire. Ken moaned softly in agony and opened his eyes to a darkened room. He shifted and turned his head restlessly to look around. "...Niall?" His voice was scratchy and rough. Ken cleared his throat and called out to him again, as he struggled to sit up.

It was so quiet. All that he heard was Ken's breathing and his own heartbeat thump-thump-thumping in his chest, in his ears. Ken could have died. Honestly, Niall wasn't even sure if he was still with him unless he stayed awake and listened to him breathe. In the quiet, the blankets rustled and Niall rested his head against Ken's chest so that he could hear his heartbeat. Slower than his but still there. Relief shook through him and he squeezed his eyes shut so tight that the heat he thought he held back so well earlier built up and escaped.

After a few moments, he could barely breathe from stifling the sounds. Biting down hard on his lower lip, he turned his head so that he pressed his face against Ken's chest. He would be okay. He was alive. That was all that mattered.


Night came and went. Ken remained alive. He breathed, his heart continued to beat. Niall eventually crawled out of bed to go to the bathroom. Stared at his hollow face in the mirror before shutting off the light and coming back out. Ken was still dead asleep. Niall tip-toed to the window for a smoke. Then a second. A third. Time was running out. He glanced back to make sure Ken was still sleeping before he put out the last cigarette and went to brush his teeth. Last thing he needed was Ken getting all annoyed with his tobacco breath.

Ken remained asleep even when Niall went back over to check on him. Even when he put a hand to his face to feel the breath on his fingertips. Niall looked over the arm, frowned, and then went to the makeshift kitchen. Ken bought all this stuff to make things with but... Niall wasn't particularly good at making anything beyond toast or ramen. All these years on his own, one would think he'd learn to cook something better by now. But he had... other things on his mind, he supposed.

Sighing, Niall checked the time on his phone. Wow. Four in the fucking morning. Niall paced past the door that had been graciously put back up by the two guys from earlier. The door itself was still cracked and weak but at least there wasn't a gaping hole for people to walk through or peek in through. Niall traced one of the cracks absently before hearing the creak of the couch bed springs.

"Right here!" Niall all but shouted in the darkness before leaping toward the couch bed and stubbing his toe something awful on the coffee table. Swearing in five different languages, he dropped down on his side of the bed and quickly kicked up the blankets and got under them, his hand reaching out into the darkness for Ken's arm.

"I'm right here, promise." He could feel Ken trying to sit up and Niall gently tried to lay Ken back down. "Hey, hey. Where're you going now, huh, mate? Just lay down and rest. Remember? You need to rest. Listen..." His voice grew lower and softer. "Over in Killarney, many years ago, me mither sang a song to me in tones so sweet and low. Just a simple little ditty, in her good ould Irish way, and l'd give the world if she could sing that song to me this day..."

Sounds of running and a thud in the darkness were ominous to a still-groggy Ken. He struggled harder to get up, in case there was an attack, but his detectors were still and silent in the darkness. Nothing supernatural posed a threat to them—just the corner leg of a table to Niall's bare feet.

Ken relaxed as a hand found his arm in the darkness, and he reached up and latched onto it. "Hi," he said in his still-raspy voice, letting Niall push him back down onto the couch bed. As his head hit the pillow, he smiled.

The stars were exceptionally bright tonight, and Ken couldn't even begin to count them. He tried, anyway, as he kicked his legs around under the sleeping bag to get comfortable. Beside him, he felt Niall shifting too in the darkness and a hand suddenly found his as if Niall could sense his nervousness.

Slowly, Ken curled his fingers around Niall's fingers. All around them, the other hunters were sleeping in similar sleeping bags, in their makeshift camp in the Scottish highlands. It was their very first, real hunt and despite having trained for this moment his entire life, Ken couldn't help but feel anxious and nervous.

What if things went wrong? What if he did something foolish to put the others in danger? What if his father was disappointed in his performance?

A whole host of scenarios ran through his mind as he laid there, trying to distract himself with the stars. Niall's hand was a lot more comforting, though. Ken scooted closer, wiggling about like a worm in his bag until he bumped into Niall.

"I'm nervous," he whispered. Ken wouldn't have told anybody, not even on pain of death, but he trusted Niall with his deepest, darkest secrets. "I can't sleep... Can you sing me something?" He felt childish even asking, but when he used to have insomnia as a little kid, his mother sang to him to lull him to sleep. Nowadays Ken just laid there until morning came, but he needed some rest if he wanted to do well the next day.

After a moment, Niall sang to him, low and soft and whispery, and Ken let his eyelids drift closed. He squeezed Niall's hand in thanks, but then a little tiny smile curved his lips. "Ye were born in Dingle, not Killarney... ye wooly dingle."

"...you were born in Dingle..." He half-turned to curl into Niall, voice low and slow and sleepy. "You wooly dingle."

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."

"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?"

"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?"

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."

"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.

"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?"

"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.

"...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."

"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.

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 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!

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.

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."

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...

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.

They couldn't be whole anymore, Ken realized it early on--maybe as soon as he caught sight of Niall in the diner, dressed in flimsy clothes with eyes rimmed in black--but... they could still be happy. The fractured selves that formed from an unusual life of exterminating life--one of the greatest sins that the bible preached--could never be healed. There were wounds in both of them, cracks that not even time could fully heal.

But there was happiness to be found in each other. Ken believed that with all his heart. He believed it when they were like this, kissing each other, needing each other, and he believed in it when they were at their lowest moments, feeling naked and vulnerable and broken.

He had always been the careful one--the mindful one, the one with all the answers. A little more time was what they needed, he was sure. A little more care and love and everything that once made them giddy in each other's arms. A little more happiness to balance out all of the sadness that had fallen over their lives.

"Careful," he murmured as they navigated the small space from would-be kitchen to couch bed. But he didn't mean that Niall should watch that the carpet didn't snag under his foot, or that he should be aware that the couch bed was looming close. He meant... He didn't know. That they needed to be careful with each other. That acting in haste now might reopen old wounds, even as his arm throbbed and bled again as he curled the injured arm around Niall's waist.

Carefully, softly, gently, he fell with Niall as he had fallen for him so abruptly long ago. Ken stood no chance then; he didn't stand a chance now. The kisses came deeper now, more amorous and as the excitement mounted and the friction between them built up and up and up, even the voice of caution inside of Ken paused--just to let him feel. Just to let him feel happy and alive and free.

"Niall... we... " shouldn't... His lips were barely a hair's breadth away; he couldn't bear to be apart for very long. Ken's hand cupped Niall's face, the thumb sweeping under his eye as if to wipe away the trails of tears already shed.

Again, careful wasn't in his lexicon. Niall was about as subtle as a dump truck and he knew it; subtlety was never one of his... attributes. Why bother being subtle when he could just say and do whatever he wanted? That was what he thought of being an adult, what he believed was maturity. Being able to do what he wanted without anybody standing in his way. No parents, no brothers, no society. Just himself, making decisions for himself.

Like right now. This was a decision he was making, albeit without much thought. But did something like this even require much thought? Not so, Niall thought. This was exactly when a person didn't need to think, only feel, only go with the body's instincts, desires, cravings. Yearnings. And Ken could keep pushing him out and telling him no all he wanted but instinctually, his body heard Ken's body. It wanted him--he wanted him, more than he was saying, more than he was letting on.

And Niall? Niall was so tired of conventions and he was so exhausted with being told to be careful. His hand was in Ken's hair, light and soft, dandelion fluff. He drew him in for another kiss. Whatever Ken wanted to say could be said later. As he kissed him, Niall rolled them over, so that Ken was on his back and Niall straddled him, not unlike earlier. The hand attached to the injured wrist caressed the side of Ken's face but the other slid between them to unbutton, to unzip, to slide down.

"Stop fighting it, Kenny..." he whispered softly against his temple before turning to kiss him again, a long and lingering kiss that ended with Ken's lower lip gently captured between Niall's teeth. And then another kiss, a softer kiss as he gently stroked Ken's hair with one hand and his cock with the other. His voice grew low and husky with need. "Please. Just let me have you. It won't hurt."

Ken would have given anything to be forgiven for past sins--anything, anything at all--but not this. Not to engage in a rushed decision made with their bodies more than with their minds. Not like this, when they were both so fractured that he could almost see the holes in them.

His body reacted favorably, though. It yearned for Niall and it arched and reached for him like a sun-starved plant in need of the warmth that only his sun could give him. Niall had always been the brightest star in the sky, the warmest sun, the most colorful and loudest and outspoken. No one ever stood in doubt about how Niall felt about them--he told them in the most unfailing terms.

Ken groaned as a hand found him through his trousers and he bucked sharply into Niall. Words whispered by his temple promised pleasure, like a siren's call. He was used to pain. He could handle anything that Niall did to him. It was only his heart that hurt while his body throbbed in pleasurable agony.

"...no, Niall," he whispered back at last, reaching down to stay Niall's hand. "We shouldn't. We can't--not right now." The voice of reason spoke strongly inside of him. Oh, how he hated it in that moment. How he hated being careful, prudent, cautious Ken.

But that was who he was.

His fingertips stilled for a moment against the side of Ken's face. To those fingertips, Ken felt warm and flushed. Surely this was what he wanted. How did he go from saying he loved him and he wanted only him, that he only wanted Niall to look at him when he kept denying him every time he made so much as a move on him? Ken was the one who kissed him first. Breath hitching, he stroked Ken's face again, bidding him to look him in the eyes and say it. His hazel eyes locked onto blue as he tilted his head slightly.

"Please," he implored, grasping at Ken beneath his clothes, which was easier said than done with Ken's hand stopping movement on top of the clothing. "You mouth keeps saying no, but the rest of you says yes."

Which was not a lie, thank you very much. He could tell when a man was revved up and ready to go. And... this was Ken. Like, Ken and Niall. Niall and Ken. He couldn't even pretend to understand why Ken was playing these games with him. He didn't get off on it like some people did, with their edging, bringing people to the brink only to leave them unsatisfied at the end. Ken didn't even do anything sexual, now that he thought about it. Just... affectionate. 

"What are you waiting for, Mother Theresa? Don't you have me right where you want me? You want me, I know you do, you know you do, you know I know you do." The evidence was right there in his hand. His voice softened, his gaze softened, fingertips moved from cheek to lips, stroking warm, kiss-swollen lips. "You kissed me first."

Desperately, desperately, Ken wanted Niall. He wanted him any way that he could have him, in all the ways spanning the range from physical to emotional. He wanted Niall with his head, with his heart, with his soul and with all the cells in his body screaming out for him. It frightened Ken a little, truth be told, to care so deeply for one person. To have his entire life hinge on one person was a kind of madness.

He only realized it after he lost Niall. Careful, cautious Ken who, in one moment of indiscretion, lost everything dear to his heart. Even now, having Niall with him, tempting him, he was so afraid. He clutched at the wrist caught in his hand like a lifeline, and even as his lips said no... his body said yes. His body's reactions were honest and sincere.

"I..." Ken couldn't begin to deny what Niall already knew. This was no game. This was in deadly earnest. Ken swallowed as his mouth ran dry and the man who had all the answers... didn't. He didn't know why he was so afraid. Why it was so important for them to go slowly, to take it easy, so that they didn't repeat the crimes of the past. It just was.

Niall's heart wasn't the only one that fractured. Ken's did too. And he was one who felt everything but said nothing, in stark contrast to Niall whose mouth could run a hundred miles a minute. Niall pulled the courage out of him back then, but there was still so much more that Ken never said and never found the words to communicate to him.

He nuzzled against the gentle hand at his face, closing his eyes for a moment to breathe and gather his thoughts. When he opened his eyes, Niall was there. So many nights... Niall wasn't there. When he opened his eyes, there was only darkness and cold and emptiness. That loneliness bore holes into his heart; the jagged edges were only beginning to heal but even now, every morning that he woke up, he was afraid that Niall wouldn't be there. Ken opened his lips and the words caught in his throat. No. Stop. Don't. Shouldn't, couldn't.

"If we rush, we'll only end up like before." His voice sounded so pathetically small, so lost even to his own ears. He did kiss Niall first, because he was weak—weaker than Niall realized. Weaker than anyone realized. Ken let go of Niall's wrist only to catch the other one, the one at Ken's face. He pressed it close, to his lips, as if that might stem the words. "I'm afraid, Niall."

Now was his chance. He could go at it. Ken's hand moved away, almost as if giving him permission to keep going, to stroke until Ken no longer worried or cared about whatever tortures and agonies filled his head. He could have gone at it but it was difficult to keep trying to sex up a man whose body was saying yes, yes, yes--but whose expression said no, no, no. It wasn't just his lips. Ken seemed to be imploring him now.

Now why did this remind him of something? Of dance clubs? Of a song. Niall removed his hand from around Ken's cock, releasing him from the bodily torment, he supposed. Ken wanted him but he didn't. It was complicated. For Niall, it really wasn't. He just wanted physical comfort to go with everything else. He wanted to resume where they'd left off. But that didn't seem possible. Whatever happened while they were separated took its toll on Ken. That much was clear.

"Why?" he asked and the question encompassed more than just what Ken said now. It meant everything. Why? Why did Ken turn away? Why did Ken come back? Why did it take so long for him to come after him? Why did he show up and act like Jem's dog and then denounce that idea? But then whenever Niall tried to get close, Ken inched back--again, again. So why? Ken admitted to being afraid. But what was he so afraid of?

Slowly, Niall curled up against Ken, giving up (for now) on trying to get any sexual gratification from him.

"Do you think I'm going to run away from you? Do you think that's why I ran the first time? Because... I don't blame you if you do. Maybe it's partly true, yeah? I... just couldn't do it anymore, you understand. You were the last little thread holding me there and when you--when even you couldn't look me in the eye anymore..."

He rolled over onto his back, letting Ken keep hold of his hand but staring up at the ceiling. Far away. That place in the past they could no longer touch.

"There was nothing left for me there. I thought if I was wrong, you'd follow me." He swallowed hard, his damned eyes prickling at the back. "...you didn't."

He didn't have to say that. Ken knew he didn't. At least, not until it was too late.

"...and I know. I should never have expected you to. How young and naive and stupid were we, really? If you ran after me, your life would be in ruins right now. I don't even think we'd be together. Do you? Because... I would've dragged you down. Like I'm dragging you down now. But it was so much worse then, Ken. You weren't there so you don't know..."

He closed his eyes. Tight. Tighter.

"But we never would have made it out together. And you wouldn't be like this anymore. Like a shining beacon. A knight on his white steed. Full of ideals and optimism. You're such a careful man, Ken. You know why you're afraid?" He turned his head to look at Ken. "You see it in me. What could have been. Me. Dragging you. Hell."

He finally fell silent, his monologue finished, his thoughts laid out. His soft gaze searched Ken's for a long moment before he gently gave his hand a squeeze. Then a moment of clarity. "You're the genie in the bottle."

Silence.

It stretched on and on and on, the only sound in Ken's ears their soft breathing, the vague creak of a badly joined board as the wind outside slipped through a crack. It stretched on far past the time for a response and it was achingly heavy, pregnant with all of the feelings that Niall let spill. There were no accusations—though some were implied. He wasn't trying to cast blame; it was only Niall being Niall, laying his thoughts and feelings bare.

Ken's jaw was tight, the pain rippling through him, raking cruelly across his already battered heart. He stared at the ceiling. Stared at a crack that started off as a tiny chip in one corner which spidered and broke away into tiny slivers that ran down the length of one wall. One small crack weakened the integrity of an entire expanse.

"...I wasn't strong enough for both of us to lean on."

Ken was only a child then, same as Niall. He had barely come into himself; he wasn't the self-assured man that he was today. And Niall kept leaning, leaning, pushing, pushing him for things that he wasn't capable of giving, desperation in every word and action and glance driving Ken further away.

Niall wanted—needed—the Ken of today, yesterday.

Nobody was born strong, though. Strength came from mistakes. From falling and getting back up, picking up the pieces and fitting them back together. That was Ken. He wasn't perfect. He failed and he fell and he got back up and put himself back in the saddle. That was his strength—the strength he didn't know he had until he fell so hard that every piece of him splintered.

"I didn't know where to turn. What to do. Who to be." Ken turned into Niall despite the discomfort in his arm, looking at him with serious eyes. He knew how Niall felt because he felt it too. Everything Niall endured, Ken endured, so he knew the pain and he knew what it was like to reach out and find nothing. It felt a whole lot like drowning, grasping for the sunlight only to sink deeper, deeper, deeper into the dark and the cold.

He wondered if Niall could ever know how he felt back then. How the pressure was so intense that Ken sometimes wished he could go to bed and not wake up again. How even that—that strain of weakness exposed in those terrible thoughts—tore Ken apart even more. Everyone was pulling him in different directions, wanting him to be their version of Perfect Ken, and Ken just... couldn't.

In the end, he was nothing to nobody. Niall left. His parents and the hunters shunned him. In the end, there was nothing left and nobody for him to lean on. Who did Ken have to comfort him? Who did Ken count on to put him back together? Himself. He only ever had himself.

Slowly, he closed his eyes. Behind the lids, there was a slow burn. "I don't see... hell when I look at you. I see my own mistakes. I see what used to be, that isn't anymore, because I was weak. And I'm afraid that you'll never forgive those mistakes. That weakness. That when you think of me, all you'll remember is how I wasn't there when you needed me. That no matter what I do now, no matter how hard I try to be your strength, all I'll ever be to you is... that one mistake. That you'll never fully understand how sorry I am that I was weak when you needed me to be strong.  I can't make another mistake. That's what I'm most afraid of. "

The fact that Niall still held on to that hurt, after so long, spoke volumes to Ken. He heard it in Niall's voice, saw it in the hollowness of his gaze some days. It confirmed all of those fears, all the insecurities that he'd been holding on to and it made it hard for him to lay himself bare to Niall. Love wasn't enough to fill in all of the cracks in their souls. It wasn't enough for a couple of young fools to use as a shield against the world. Their suffering left too many holes in them to be filled by one man's desperation.

"I've always needed you more than you needed me, Niall. Did you know that?"

"...no."

He didn't know that and he didn't know that he believed it, either. Maybe Ken did but it seemed absurd that Ken would need Niall more than Niall needed Ken. But just as Ken didn't know because he wasn't there, Niall also didn't know because he wasn't there for Ken, either. They were so young and dumb that all they could do was try and protect themselves the only ways they knew how at that age.

Niall sighed and slowly sat up, drawing his knees up and lowering his head. Funny how one minute he could go from begging for sex to pushing back tears. Hah. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and rested his chin on his arm.

"You're not that one mistake." Niall could see why Ken thought it, though. Niall did bring it up a lot. He did hold onto it for a long time, that disappointment and sadness and even anger. But Ken was saying it now. He couldn't do it. He couldn't hold Niall together any better than Niall could on his own. And Niall, the more he thought about it, only saw their self destruction, had Ken come along with him. They would have both succumbed, would they not? Or Ken wouldn't know what to do when he saw what Niall was doing.

"I didn't know what to do, either. I always had family before, even if I thought they hated me. But it's different, when you're young and facing the world alone. Nobody gives you a... a manual for it. Who do you trust? By the time you realize you picked the wrong people, you're too far in to do anything about it."

He looked over his shoulder at Ken. "And I know... I know..." His voice fell to an almost inaudible whisper. "It was unfair of me to think you had all the answers." He lowered his gaze. "I just thought... needed... somebody to idealize and hold onto or I..."

Silence fell again, a shroud over their pain. Neither of them were strong back then, neither able to face the dawning horror of their new reality. Forced to choose between family, the people who formed the backbone of their lives, and the person who formed the other half of their souls, it wasn't an easy decision. There was no way to predict the future then, whether Ken choosing Niall would have led them down a bitter path or one of salvation.

He reached for Niall again, sliding a hand over his arm, laying on his side and looking up at him with softness in both gaze and expression. The fear of being that one mistake was still there. It would always be there, no matter how much reassurance he was given, just in the same way that Niall would always be faced with Ken's choice of family over him. They couldn't erase their shared past. The holes that formed in Ken's absence--in Niall's absence--might never close completely.

"I couldn't be what you needed back then. But I can be now. Just... give me some time. All of this is new to me too, Niall. I don't always know what to do or what to say to you but I'm learning."

They were apart longer than they had been together, after all. Familiarity didn't happen overnight. The bonds that fractured didn't repair themselves magically. And sex, as much as Ken's body was hating him for even thinking it, wasn't a priority. (But it didn't stop his lower body from throbbing painfully, left unattended to from Niall's earlier ministrations.)

He needed that idealized version of Ken in his mind. Even if he never came for him, as idealized, and he never showed up during Niall's darkest moments, the promise that he might was sometimes enough to get him through a bad day. But the roughest times... not so much. Those were the nights when he elected to feel nothing, when the numbing was better than having to deal with the pain.

There was no manual for any of it. When Niall left, he didn't know how to do a lot of adult things. He still thought adulthood meant doing things for oneself and not being held under the thumb of oppression. But now that he saw Ken in a different light, he started to see himself in a different light, too. And truthfully, he didn't like what he was seeing.

Niall ran a hand over his face, then pressed his knuckles up against his lips, thinking. Ken would hate himself so much more if he knew all the things that had transpired since their separation. There was no point in telling him about all that. Besides, Niall had thrown it all in the past and behind the wall of sedation, beneath drugs and alcohol and supernatural sex. He thought of the bite mark on his throat even now, serving as a reminder that he still had problems--real problems--that he wasn't so sure even his idealized version of Ken could take care of, let alone this broken human version of him.

Leaning back slightly, he looked back at Ken and just soaked him in for a long, long moment. Then he slowly laid back down, propped up on his elbow. He reached for the opening in Ken's trousers and he closed them very deliberately.

"Just say you still love me."

It... it felt worse, honestly, with the zip done up on his trousers--now it felt too tight and too constricted, but Ken appreciated the gesture. He squirmed a little in what he hoped was an inconspicuous way to relieve some of the pressure. Maybe Niall didn't see it, or didn't feel the jiggle of the bed when he did it...

The point was, Niall acquiesced and wasn't pushing for sex, which was equal parts a relief and disappointing (in purely the physical sense).

After he had gotten settled, somewhat, Ken shifted closer. His hand drifted up to Niall's face, tracing the outline from temple to jaw, chin, jaw again, then the other temple. "I've always loved you. Always. When it... seemed hopeless... it helped me to be strong. You helped me to be strong."

At his lowest moments, he clung to his version of Niall, too--not an ideal, not a fantasy, but the memories of what they had. Ken drew strength from that, if from nothing else.

His fingertips traced Niall's brows, then the bridge of his nose. He tipped his head forward, closer, and the tip of his nose nuzzled the tip of Niall's. "I love you," he whispered against Niall's lips, plying him with another tender kiss. "I love you, Niall. Poodles. Wooly wooly wooly sheep."

He closed his eyes. Love was a difficult concept to wrap his head around some days. Love was so important but it was really lacking in the cold world he'd buried himself in. When he was numb, it was bearable to get through to the next day. When he was at his lowest points, though, Niall had no idea how to save himself. When he was drowning in the past, in regrets, in mental anguish, in heartbreak, it was all he could do to just breathe in, breathe out.

Ever since Ken showed up, he felt like he was in some kind of dream world, some fantasy that he'd concocted in his last overdose. This was it, this was death. This was what he thought death was. Sweet release. Comfort. The ability to simply lie in bed with Ken and know that he was there and to hear him say those words and those pet names that made him both smile and cringe. But he loved those stupid pet names. He hadn't heard them in so long and then Ken was here.

When he opened his eyes after Ken's kiss, he reached over to touch Ken's face, too so that they were lying there together with their hands on each other's faces.

"I love you too." He drew an arm around Ken's waist to cuddle up against him, nuzzling Ken, cheek to cheek, as he did.

This was heaven, pure and simple. Their love was pure, too, though Ken could no longer claim that it was simple. There was so much history there, in good ways and in bad, but it wasn't going to stop them from being together. The way that their bodies twined, they fit just right. Nothing could be wrong about this.

Ken laid with Niall in silence, content to be with him, to have and hold and kiss and touch—innocent kisses, innocent touches. He didn't know how long they stayed like that until his phone went off and the light of the screen illuminated the bedside area.

"It might be Jem," he sighed as he reached for it. "I'll let him know I'm staying with you. For good." Jem meant well and he probably saved Ken's arm, but this was where Ken needed to be.

To his surprise, it wasn't Jem. It was Gregg. Asking to double date. "Niall... am I seeing this right?" He showed Niall the phone. "This does say he wants to double date... with us... right?"

Niall was content with lying there forever and ever but eventually, the real world came knocking. Or rather, it came in the form of Ken's phone. Niall watched Ken go for it, then tilted his head when the screen was shown to him.

"Who? Jem?" Niall asked, confused. JEM was asking them on a double date? "I mean, that's what it says." The contact didn't say Jem, though. It was somebody named Gregg. Probably a peripheral hunter that came around when Niall... well, when Niall wasn't around to do the hunting thing anymore.

"Why does this guy want to go on a double date with us?"

"No, Gregg. He's a friend of mine. He's with Jem's group but went upstate to hunt vampires with his new partner. But I... I don't know. Gregg doesn't seem like the type to go on double dates. Or dates."

Ken frowned, puzzled, as he exchanged a few more messages with his friend. Gregg was one of the better ones, he thought. Serious and dependable, Gregg kept mostly to himself but he wasn't unlikable at all. In fact, Ken considered him not merely an acquaintance, but a friend as well.

"We went on a few hunts together but I didn't know he felt this way." Ken laughed softly, but it was a puzzled laugh. He glanced at Niall. "Should we? I've never been on a double date before. And... that's what couples do, isn't it?"

With no face to put to the name, Niall just assumed they were talking about some butt ugly dude who had no chance at a date. After all, who didn't go on dates? Ugly people, that was who. Ugly hunters. Like Jem. (Which he knew wasn't fair or true but... he still didn't much care for Jem, especially after the bastard went and broke his wrist. Jerk.)

"Aw, he found love and he wants to share it with you," Niall said. "I think it's sweet. Maybe they're planning on getting married and he wants your opinion. Also, the fact that you've never been on a double date is pretty sweet too."

He smiled and gently pinched Ken's cheek like he was an adorable child and not his... whatever he was. Boyfriend? Ken just said they were a couple, even though he wouldn't let him sex him up. (Side eye on that one.) But maybe going on a double date with his friend would open up his eyes. Maybe it would get romantic.

"WELL," Niall declared, "I'M all for it! We were starting to fall into an old people rut, anyway."

Ken had been on dates before, just not double dates. There didn't seem to be a need and honestly, he didn't try that hard with the people that he claimed as lovers. He was always moving, too. Always searching for Niall, his one love.

Having found Niall, however, the idea of a date began to grow on him. Ken was traditional; he wanted to do things the right way. One step at a time. Holding hands, then kisses, then intimacy. There was a blueprint for such things, he thought. Not so for Niall, who jumped around wildly, but wasn't that what Ken was here for? To ground him?

"I think I can understand that." He smiled at Niall, then scowled at Niall when his cheek was pinched. Ken was about to say that he, too, wanted to share his love with someone but now he was keeping that all to himself!

"All right then, let's go on a double date." Gregg suggested the art fair, which was another surprising revelation. Did Gregg like art? Or was it his partner? "Tomorrow at noon, he says... The art fair. That should be right up your alley, Poodles."

"Aw, don't make that face. Your smile is so pretty."

What, he didn't like the cheek pinching? But he was so precious. Nobody could resist the cheek pinch when somebody was so precious. Niall kept his smile on, despite the scowl he was given by Ken. Besides, it didn't last forever and they were going on a double date with some friend of Ken's. Niall wondered if he was an old lover. Nah. Probably not. Or maybe? No, not if he was ugly. Or maybe? Niall wasn't honestly aware of what Ken went for when Niall wasn't around. Hm. He liked to think that he'd left a string of curly haired irishmen in his wake, looking for a replacement Niall. But ha-HAH! Nobody could replace Niall! Except NIALL.

He twirled his finger around the vague area of Ken's nipple without even thinking about it.

"Art! It's like they're reading my mind!" he said, as if blew his own. "This is going to be fun. We never got to go on a real date. Do you realize that?"

Nobody could replace Niall at all, not in looks and certainly not in overabundance of personality. There was just too much that was uniquely Niall that couldn't be replicated in another person, man or woman. Ken wasn't seeking to replace him, either. He appreciated his lovers as they were, but knew deep down that he could never love them. Some of them were okay with it; others left him when they realized that his heart belonged to someone else.

But that was all in the past, and none of his past lovers were coming to the door knocking, demanding answers. Ken found Niall and he was keeping to his side like glue. But. He wasn't having any shenanigans. Ken drew the naughty hand down. The problem downstairs was just beginning to diminish and he wasn't about to let Niall tease and torment him again.

"What about that time... hm..." He thought hard about dates but it was true—they never went formally on a date. They were caught before they could do anything about their feelings. "You're right. This is our first date." Which made it a shame that they had to share it with another couple; Ken selfishly wanted that magical moment to have all to themselves. But having promised Gregg, he couldn't refuse.

Tossing the phone away after the time and date were set, he wound his arm back around Niall again and snuggled close. Nothing seemed problematic when he was together with Niall. "I wonder what Gregg's partner is like. Last time I met him, he was all nerves. I can't imagine Gregg going for someone so high-strung, when he's so much like me." Ken eyed Niall and pecked the tip of his nose lightly. "Then again... he probably won't expect you, either..."

"See? Our first date! Aww."

Really, though, there was no real date when they were younger. There was a lot of... just being young. Sneaking a hand hold here, a kiss there, a shag there. And then before they could even do anything the proper way, they were found in the worst possible way and it just snowballed downhill from there. Still... Niall sighed and tipped his head forward. Weirdly, it was just occurring to him that he shouldn't have left. The pain had been about enough to kill him, compounded with all the other problems in his life. But... he was a coward and he knew it, running away instead of standing his ground like he should have done.

Before he could dig himself into the rumination spiral, however, Ken was back, arm around him, secure and safe. He was here now, despite whatever happened back then. He smiled to himself as his nose was kissed, then wrinkled it briefly. Yes, there was no point in obsessing over what could have been when there was now.

"Nobody expects me," Niall assured Ken with a pat on the chest. "And were you giving him that face from earlier? Because that could be why he was all nerves."

"No! I was—"

Ken stopped short. Thinking back on it, he had been quite intensely absorbed in the task at hand, which was to get to Hazleton to help Jem fight off supernaturals hunting down hunters. And that was also before he found Niall, so his outlook was quite grim and severe, and so was his expression at any given time.

"...yes," he admitted a little sheepishly. "I was still searching for you then, and I was getting desperate that I might never find you. Maybe I did scare him."

Well that was unfortunate, but also—baffling. What did Gregg's partner see in him that he wanted to double date with him even after Ken went and frightened him all to pieces? It really did look like he was going to fall apart, the way that his nerves seemed to seize him.

"Good thing you'll be there," he sighed as he rested his cheek against Niall's. "Otherwise it'll be dead awkward. Gregg's not a talker." Neither was Ken, when it came down to it, unless he was talking to Niall. Niall had some magical ability to draw out his words and feelings and expressions that no one else had.

"Just don't tell them embarrassing stories about me, all right?" He made a mock-serious glare at Niall. "I know you've got all of them, but keep them to yourself, Poodles!"

Niall laughed in delight.

"Ahaha! I knew it! You scared the poor fella!"

Ken could be pretty damn intimidating when he wanted to be. Tall and handsome, he might be, but he was also intense when he was in that mode. Hunting mode. Hunting Niall Mode. He must have been quite the vision. Nuzzling Ken's cheek, he drew closer, as if he could somehow meld their bodies into one, a leg looping around a leg, his arm resting against Ken's waist, again with the little circles, only this time on the bedding beneath Ken.

"So you guys are alike, you said. Not talkers." Wow, this was going to be... a thing. And the nervous scared guy, too. Niall was imagining this pair as a big ugly brute and a nervous, timid little mouse. Interesting.

"But!" he protested. "What if it gets boring and there's a lull in the conversation?! What else do I bring up?!"

This was so cozy, just them alone in bed, talking and chatting like old times. It reminded Ken of the nights that they'd spend out on the hills, looking at the stars with their arms and legs wound around each other. This was what Ken loved, moments like these that allowed him to be himself. Not a hunter, not a dutiful teammate, but Ken—Kenny.

And Niall was Niall. Ken felt the comfortable weight of his arm, the little movements of his hand. He watched the light in Niall's lashes—they were so long, so beautiful—and the way that light radiated from his eyes and face. Niall was entrancing. He was so vibrant, so alive in every aspect of his being. Was there any wonder how Ken could become so enamoured with him?

"You've got millions of stories." He did, too. Niall never stopped talking when they were together. And Ken loved that about him, because he loved to listen and he liked watching Niall flail around as he illustrated key points with his arms and legs. "If it gets too awkward, we'll go and eat. Then we can talk about the food."

"I know, I was being facetious." He kissed Ken. Cute Ken. Did he really think he'd let things get awkward? Niall? Awkward? Ahaha! Not this guy! There was a lack of dignity in his life that made it impossible for things to be awkward--at least, on his end. He wasn't worried about that. But he did kinda want to tell stories about Ken. He wondered what Gregg would think of the Ken of his youth versus Hunter Ken, the side of Ken that most people knew.

"I kinda don't want to tell those stories," he told Ken after some thought. "I want that Ken to be just mine and nobody else's."

Nobody else could have that Ken, not even in story form.

"We'll be at an art show, Kenny! We'll have plenty to talk about. At least, I will. So don't worry. I've got this."

"You—oh, you wanker," Ken exclaimed in exasperation. Niall was being Niall—again. He should have known that he was only being teased. He should have really known that Niall and awkwardness didn't go hand-in-hand. Actually, Niall was sometimes—generally?—the source of awkwardness because of his inability to keep his words in.

Even when they were young, Niall was unfailingly honest. About everything. And he had a sharp wit and a sharper tongue, which meant that wars of words against him were losing battles. Ken never tried. He let Niall have victories, knowing that later on when they were all alone... Well, he was a little sneaky himself, Ken was.

"That Ken is only yours," he smiled as he kissed Niall. "This Ken... is also only yours, you know."

"Oh, I know." Niall smiled into the kiss.

He would have to be stupid to think otherwise. Ken said he looked for him. He said nobody compared to his deity-like beauty (okay he didn't put it that way but that's what Niall chose to hear). And he most definitely said there was only Niall. No matter what else happened, there was only Niall slotted into his heart, in that place where romance went. Niall honestly couldn't say otherwise. Nobody ever came even slightly close to Ken and Niall supposed he wasn't searching for that. Like he said about having Ken all to himself, he didn't want some pale copy. The people he associated with now couldn't be more different.

Look at JC, a sultry redhead. And Jordan, a handsome black man. Those were the regulars but they weren't in any way what he'd call a girlfriend or a boyfriend. There were also the incubi and succubi at the place where Ken--Niall took in a short breath, remembering the arm with a sudden startling clarity.

"Can I see it?" he asked, sliding a hand gingerly over Ken's arm. "Your... the wound. Does it still hurt?"

Was it obvious? Ken wondered sometimes if his feelings showed. If, during the brief moments when they were out buying groceries or doing errands, that other people could see just how much he cared about Niall. Sometimes he thought that the feelings of love and tenderness would overflow.

Ken was good at hiding things, though. He echoed Niall's sentiments about keeping their past selves to themselves; that part of him would never belong to anyone else and that part of Niall belonged only to him. Those were sacred memories, held dear and close to his heart, tiding him over when he hit those bumps in the road. Telling them to just anyone would make those memories common and they certainly were anything but that.

"It does hurt," he said truthfully because it did and Niall would see through his lies. "But I can take it. You don't have to worry. I won't turn." If he did, he would feel it and he felt perfectly normal. Ken did look at his injured arm, however, and ran his fingers along the bandages.

"I've fought something like that before. The shadow creature. It was in Italy, in a small town like this one. Someone summoned them, all across town, and it... wasn't pretty."

Look at them, seriously a pair of blokes with arm wounds. Niall's was on its way to healing, though. The worst of the pain had finally passed and now it was mostly just sore and itchy. Really itchy. Sometimes he just wanted to pound the cast against the wall and see if it would help. (It didn't, he tried once.)

Niall watched Ken's fingertips running over the bandage and he could see the blood that had seeped out, a stark red stain against the white of the bandaging. Niall settled his hand over Ken's, fingers over his fingers, palm sliding over the back of Ken's hand.

"I wasn't thinking you were going to turn," he murmured. That wouldn't even matter to Niall. He spent his time in the company of so-called monsters all the time. But... he had to admit, he didn't want it to happen, not to his pure Ken. Somehow, he was afraid that it WOULD end up mattering, if Ken turned into something else and it actually changed him from this Ken into something else. But if it didn't, well, as long as he had HIS Ken, nothing else mattered.

"I'm sure if you were going to, your tools would've gone hay-whacky." Or... were the tools still here? He furrowed his brow and looked up, over where they usually were. Jem's lackeys were pretty adamant about Ken not coming back when they swept the place for Ken's things.

Settling back, he cocked his head.

"Shadow creatures? That doesn't sound right. I've been to that place loads of... I've been to that place. I don't remember there being anything like that. Just... you know. Sex demons." He frowned. "Why would there be something like that here...?"

"It's okay, it's okay. It'll heal on its own, don't worry," Ken said quietly and reassuringly, turning his hand so that he could clasp Niall's. He drew it down, away from the blood-stained bandages. There was no need for Niall to feel badly about the injury. It wasn't his fault, despite how angry Jem and the others were about the failed raid, and how ready they were to lay all of the blame onto Niall.

His detectors were mostly gone, though. Ken supposed that the others had come to take them; he'd vaguely heard Jem telling someone to get his things back in the car. It was a shame but he could get them back later. Jem couldn't use them, he was sure; they were family heirlooms that only Ken knew how to tune and manipulate.

"I don't know what that thing was doing there, but it's not good." Ken sighed. He'd thought about it too, why a creature that he'd fought all the way in Italy wound up here. But barring further investigation around town, he couldn't say for sure—and he wasn't one for idle speculations.

"Don't bother yourself about it, Poodles. I'll get to the bottom of things once this arm heals up a little. We should get some rest... We've an important double date tomorrow don't we?" He smiled, and it was a touch impish. "We have to be at our best. The best couple."