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“I hate this fecking bed,” Paddy grumbles, twisting with some difficulty as he tries to find a comfortable place to sleep. “Remind me why we keep sleeping at yours?” Eoin, lying on his side with his back against the wall in an attempt to give Paddy as much space as possible smiles with his eyes closed. Paddy has been fidgeting for the past twenty minutes and Eoin had hoped that if he just kept his eyes closed, he’d be able to sleep through it. He has not been successful.
“Because it’s closer to the pub,” he murmurs sleepily. Paddy harrumphs in response and Eoin knows he’s right. He also, however, will happily admit that the nights they both sleep in his single bed in a box room in the house he shares with people who are, at best, acquaintances, are the worst night’s sleep he ever has. Paddy shifts again and Eoin has had enough. As pleasantly as he can manage at 2am, he reaches out to place a hand on Paddy’s chest. “Move again, pet, and I will kick you out of this fecking bed.” Paddy grumbles again, but he’s mostly still after that.
-
Over breakfast, Paddy won’t stop staring at Eoin. Eoin would love to pretend it’s because Paddy is just as tired as he is after a shit night’s sleep, but Paddy can run on sub-three hours of sleep no problem. It’s actually a little concerning, but Eoin isn’t about to fight that battle today.
No, the dead-eyed stare is because as they sit at the dining table eating toast from the same plate because there weren’t any clean plates in the kitchen, Eoin’s housemate is singing to himself as he saunters around the kitchen in nothing but a towel. The singing had started in the shower and it was just as tuneless in person as it was through the walls. That alone would not be enough to wind Paddy up like this, but it is also the fourth time Paddy has been here to see this routine. He knows what comes next, and Eoin knows he knows what comes next, and he knows that Paddy may be at the end of his tether this time.
“Hey, Eoin, am I alright to borrow your bread, I haven’t got any in?” his housemate asks. It’s innocent enough, Eoin thinks, trying hard to convey his own lack of care to Paddy.
“Sure,” Eoin replies. Paddy glares at him. Eoin has complained multiple times that his housemates like to ‘borrow’ his food, so it might be a little late to convince Paddy he doesn’t care.
“Cheers man.” There’s a pause as he puts the last of Eoin’s bread in the toaster. “You don’t mind if I steal your peanut butter too, right?” Eoin’s not sure why he’s asking when he’s already reaching into the cupboard for it. It doesn’t matter what his answer is, so he doesn’t respond. Instead, he tries hard to communicate psychically with Paddy to not make a scene. He’s pretty confident that Paddy gets the message but is nevertheless planning to ignore it. “Dude you have got to stop buying the crunchy peanut butter,” his housemate says with a shake of his head.
“Or how about-” Paddy starts.
“How about a cup of tea, Paddy?” Eoin asks, standing abruptly to cut Paddy off. Eoin fills the kettle and flicks it on with a sharp look at Paddy behind his housemate’s back. Paddy raises both hands in surrender.
Trusting that he can keep his mouth shut for a couple of minutes, Eoin turns away and pulls two mugs out of the cupboard before going to the fridge. When he opens it, he could scream.
“Oh yeah, I finished the milk mate, sorry.” The scraping sound of Paddy’s chair dragging along the floor as he stands doesn’t even phase Eoin. Whatever happens now, he thinks, is probably well deserved.
“What an absolute wanker,” Paddy growls before walking out of the kitchen.
-
They’re sitting on the sofa, curtains drawn against the dark, the TV on low. It’s been a long week and Eoin’s grateful simply to know that he doesn’t have to get up early in the morning. Even better, Paddy doesn’t either. It’s his weekend off and Eoin is planning to sleep late and cook a proper Irish breakfast for them. He shuffles closer to Paddy, who stretches his arm out along the back of the sofa so that Eoin can get closer.
Eoin turns his head toward Paddy to find him already watching him, the fondest of smiles curving his lips up. Eoin could spend his whole life lost in that smile.
“What are you thinking?” Eoin asks him.
“Just…admiring.”
“Admiring?” Eoin says with disbelief, “You going soft, Paddy?” He shakes his head and turns back to the TV, but Paddy’s hand on his chin stops him.
“Ah, I was thinking quite the opposite,” he says, leaning down to kiss Eoin deeply. Eoin can’t help but smile into the kiss, amused at the line even as heat sparks low in his body. The hand that was on his chin slides along his jaw to run into his curls, tugging ever so slightly and eliciting a muffled moan from Eoin.
The blanket that was resting over Eoin’s legs falls to the floor as he shifts, moving a leg to either side of Paddy’s to straddle him. Paddy’s hands run up Eoin’s side, taking his shirt with him until he’s forced to lift his arms so Paddy can lift it over his head. The shiver that runs through Eoin could be from the chill in the air or the touch of Paddy’s hands, either way, he leans down to be closer, to give Paddy more skin to touch. In response, Paddy’s hands slide down to cup his ass, earning a gasp in response.
The resulting smirk is infuriatingly attractive, so Eoin leans down to kiss it off him.
Paddy’s kisses travel to his cheek, his earlobe, his neck. He pauses briefly to nip at the muscled juncture between neck and shoulder before continuing down his chest, pulling him in closer. With another smirk, he leans down and takes one nipple in his mouth. The hot wet feel of it has Eoin moaning lewdly.
Suddenly the overhead light is switched on and Eoin opens his eyes to find his housemates standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and gawping. “Oh shit,” one says as Eoin scrambles for his shirt, “We did not mean to…”
“Come on man,” the other whines, “do you have to fuck on our sofa?”
“Dude,” the first says, hitting the other on the chest, “they’re clearly not fucking.”
“What do you mean ‘clearly’? I’m not about to look over the back of the sofa to check.”
They continue talking, but Eoin is trying desperately to pretend this isn't happening. The heat in his cheeks is burning and Paddy’s hands are still tight against his hips so that he can't stretch to reach his shirt where it lies on the floor. He can practically hear Paddy's teeth grinding together.
“What's your problem, you were humping Sara on it the other day.”
“I didn't fuck her though, did I?”
“You were pretty fucking close-”
“Guys, guys!” Eoin attempts to interrupt them. “Nobody is fucking anyone, okay?” The whole straddling his boyfriend and being shirtless thing isn't helping his point, he'll admit, but he tries his best to have this conversation with some dignity. “We'll be on our way upstairs, now.”
By the time Eoin shuts the door behind him, dropping his head to the door, he’s no longer feeling particularly in the mood. He can also feel Paddy’s eyes on him from where he’s draped himself across the bed. The lack of amusement he has for the situation is more than clear and Eoin’s not really sure what he can say to make it better. “Well that was nice,” is all he manages, the corner of his mouth turned up in a sarcastic smile. Paddy holds an arm open, encouraging Eoin to lie down next to him. He doesn’t say anything, but Eoin will take what he can get.
Once he’s settled in against Paddy’s side, wrapped up in his warm embrace, he can hear the muffled conversation his housemates are continuing downstairs. “I’m just saying, how many times do you think they’ve done that?”
“Done what?”
“Fucked on the sofa.”
“Oh my god, it’s no more than you do on it every weekend.”
“Yeah but at least I don't make it everybody's problem.”
“You literally threw up on it two weeks ago.”
“Eoin, pack a bag,” Paddy says, the words rumbling through his chest to where Eoin is pressed against him, “And don't forget the black pudding.”
-
“Your housemates are feckin’ imbeciles,” Paddy declares as Eoin shuts the front door.
“Hush, Paddy,” Eoin says back quietly, conscious that they might still be able to hear them. Reaching out to take Paddy’s hand, he pulls him further away from the house before he can do any more damage. “Let’s just get to yours and we can get back to our weekend, love.” Paddy has a few more choice words he’d like to say, but Eoin looks and sounds exhausted, so instead he pulls Eoin’s bag off his shoulder and puts it on his own, kisses his hand, and leads him away to where his car is parked.
Once they reach Paddy’s, Eoin insists they get back to the film they were watching, though neither of them really know what was happening and it's already past midnight.
Eoin's falling asleep before they've even settled in.
-
By the time Sunday evening comes, Paddy is sure he’s never felt quite so content. They have done nothing but be together, staying in bed late, sharing a pot of tea, Eoin cooking as Paddy worked in the garden.
As he watches Eoin washing up, he finds with some certainty that he could do this for the rest of his life. Eoin is talking of going home, back to his, because he has work in the morning, and all Paddy can think is that he doesn’t want Eoin to leave. Before Eoin, he’d not felt this kind of longing for companionship, an innate desire to be around someone. But now he cannot imagine being without him; Eoin settles him, calms him in a way he didn’t know that he needed and demands nothing of him in return.
“So it’s up to you really, drop me home now or watch another episode first,” Eoin finishes, turning to look at Paddy, who has not particularly been paying attention.
“Move in with me,” Paddy says, not a question mark in sight. Eoin drops the plate he was washing back into the bowl, splashing water back up himself.
“What?”
“Your housemates are eejits who steal your food and you sleep in a single bed.” Eoin can't disagree, and it's not exactly a romantic way for Paddy to ask, but that doesn’t stop his heart practically beating out his chest.
“Paddy, we've barely been dating three months.”
“And?”
“And you’re asking me to move in.”
“Aye.”
Eoin blinks at him, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing around unspoken words. His hands are still in the washing up bowl, the splash from the dropped plate dripping slowly from the edge of the counter to the floor.
Each drip feels like the tick off a clock as they stand watching each other. Paddy reluctantly recognises the hurt blooming in his chest from Eoin’s hesitance. It’s not just hurt, though. There’s a sting of sadness, and there’s the confusion of rejection, and the unexpected jealousy creeping round the edges, all there, swirling around each other as he watches Eoin flounder. It’s not that Paddy had thought about it for a long time before asking, but now the idea is there he knows with absolute certainty that it is what he wants and he realises in the quiet that he had been confident that Eoin would want it to.
After a long silence, Paddy speaks. “Do you not want to?”
Eoin shakes his head, and for a moment Paddy is lost, until the edges of Eoin's mouth creep unbidden into a smile. “Yeah. Fuck it,” he says gently, “Why not?” They smile quietly at each other for a long minute, before Eoin turns back to the washing up with a wide smile on his face. Paddy flicks the kettle on to make them tea as the storm in his chest dies down.