irish eyes are smiling

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It really was getting very serious between the two of them, and Ezra always had half a mind to finally take a deep breath and ask Kian just what they were to each other, exactly. He wanted to know, having always preferred labels to the unknown. Ezra Walker did not deal in uncertainties - ever, yet it seemed to be an allowance he’d give Kian for the luxury of getting to spend more and more time with him. It had been a year or so now since the two of them had gotten rid of any pretenses about them not caring for each other on a deeper level, perhaps longer. Yet he still wasn’t sure if they, for all intents and purposes, a proper couple.

With Kian looking starry-eyed and loudly celebrating Ezra’s accomplishments, it seemed like a safe time to perhaps broach the subject. But then Kian’s arms were around him, his mouth covering his in a kiss, and Ezra’s mind went blissfully blank.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Ezra said in response to Kian’s little quip about Harry.

He pressed another brief kiss to Kian’s lips then glanced over his shoulder. Harry was standing over by the makeshift buffet table, a paper cup in his hand as he glared at them both.

Hysteria bubbled up in Ezra’s throat and before it could evolve into a proper laugh, he turned his head back to Kian so he could press his face into the other man’s neck, his shoulders shaking in silent giggles.

It occurred to him how good he felt right now. Sure, he wasn’t crazy about the show, nor his part in it, even if the critics deemed it career-defining in the most complimentary of ways. It helped to pay the bills though, and he did love performing, despite the way he was constantly pestering his agent to find him auditions for roles that were a little meatier. Tragic, without being exploitative. She always did her best, whilst reminding him he had nothing to complain about right now, something he supposed he should be grateful for as he nuzzled against Kian in turn, inhaling the scent of the other man’s cologne

“Kim’s a darling,” he breathed, lifting his head to smatter a line of kisses along Kian’s cheek, exhilarated by the silent permission the other man had given him.

“No drinking in my bed,” he said, sharply. He caught Kian’s eye and his expression, strict and firm, broke into another teasing smile as he lowered his lips down by Kian’s ear. 

“Unless you plan on licking it off me if you happen to spill it,” he whispered, gently kissing Kian’s earlobe and barely managing to avoid being jostled by several of his castmates as the party shuffled around them, something on the other side of the room claiming their attention.

Ezra didn’t lift his head to see what it was, far too focused on Kian.

He was hellbent on letting himself have this one, small victory however. 

That was, of course, up until he heard the clearing of a throat just beyond Ezra, the other man's castmates and tech crew shuffling aside to allow someone else to enter the room. 

No. This wasn't supposed to happen. He isn't supposed to be here. 

His blood ran cold at the sight of his father, the whole room parting like the fecking Red Sea. His hand slipped free from Ezra's waist, eyes widening as Andrew McGrath's eyes locked with his own, a look of disgust etched clean across his features. He zeroed in on the two of them, even as Kian hurried to untangle himself from Ezra, from his one and only safe haven. Nausea rolled in the pit of his stomach as he took a sharp step back, stumbling as a piercing, ringing noise sounded in his ears. 

"Just like you, isn't it Kian? To be caught poncing around New York engaging in... that sort of behaviour," he muttered, ensuring he was close enough to the two of them that only they could hear. 

Kian's father had tried to phase his accent out, partially through travel and mostly through dialect coaches, but remnants of that Dublin brogue still remained. He could paint himself as being Mayfair born and raised and speak the King's English all he liked, but it didn't change a thing. Kian knew who he was, under the airs and graces, and the man he knew was a sniveling coward with more money than sense. The acknowledgement of that should have been enough for Kian to hold his head high and defy the man that had hurt his mother  night after night, but it wasn't. At his core, Kian McGrath was still a frightened little boy. 

"It's not... We were just hugging," he found himself muttering, shaking his head as he dropped his gaze low. He stared down at his feet as shame rippled through his body. He'd spent so long running from who he was, and Ezra had slowly started to show him how safe it could be. How good it could be. Now, he was undoing all the work they'd done because he was too cowardly to speak up against his absent, abusive father. Suddenly, he was a naughty teenager trying to appease his father to avoid a telling off. 

Glancing around them, Kian could feel all eyes on him suddenly, his father's smug smirk bouncing across the room, reflected on in the awkward nerves that everyone else appeared to be wearing. 

"I was just leaving, actually," he blurted out. 

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Ezra Walker has exited Andrew McGrath’s A LITTLE LIFE due to what has been cited as ‘creative differences’ by the show’s producer. Understudy Jack Carmichael will be taking on the role of Willem until Ezra’s replacement has been confirmed.

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And oh, Ezra had most certainly fallen.

He let his head fall back, gently thunking against the door behind him. A soft smile crossed his face as he stared at Kian, no ego in his expression. For once, Ezra was happy to just let himself be without performing for someone. 

He liked Kian, so terribly much. And if the other man was being open about the fact that he liked Ezra back, why should either of them bother to hide it in the safety of the keg room. It wasn’t a place he imagined had been witness to declarations like this, what with the strong smell of Guinness wafting up from the barrels and puddles of sticky liquid surrounding their feet. But it was a room that kept them safe from prying eyes and, perhaps for the first time in his life, Ezra wasn’t in the mood to be picky.

“I don’t know,” Ezra said with a gentleness he wasn’t used to. He reached up to slide Kian’s mask from his eyes to his forehead. His touch was… Well, embarrassingly, the only word that could really be applied was reverent. “I think your eyes are quite something. When I can see them properly.”

His cheeks dimpled as he smiled at Kian, leaning in again and stopping just short of the other man’s mouth.

“I like you too. An awful lot,” he confessed before leaning in to kiss him. His hands found Kian’s waist again and he tugged him closer, eyes falling shut. Something settled in his chest as he kissed the other man, and he felt a calm that he hadn’t felt since the early days of, ugh, Harry. But this was different. This was good, right?

“I like your frown when you get frustrated with me,” he muttered, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards as he trailed kisses along Kian’s cheek. “And how much lip you give Harry. He really doesn’t like you, you know.” Another kiss to the bridge of Kian’s nose. “And your accent. We know how much I like the accent.”

The two had once despised each other, the mere mention or sight of the other enough to raise their hackles – if you could ignore the obvious, carnal desire that came hand in hand with such loathing. But now Kian couldn’t imagine his days without Ezra dithering about, bratty and altogether too dramatic, but still charming enough to ignite a spark in Kian’s chest. He huffed out a quiet laugh as he lifted a hand to nudge his feckless little mask a little higher on his face, pushing his cropped fringe back as the thin sheath of fabric rested against it. He supposed he could allow Ezra the delights of getting to see his eyes now that they were tucked away together, no prying eyes to concern themselves with. 

“How’s that for ye?” he murmured, lips parting into a doting smile as he playfully winked at Ezra. 

He welcomed the next kiss from Ezra just as greedily as the rest of them, lips parted and tongue gliding against the other man’s lower lip. He felt the gentle squeeze of something against his heart as the other man reciprocated his like, a familiar sensation that he’d been exposed to only one other time in his life. The last time it had ended badly, but that wouldn’t be the case here. They would patch each other up and mend the wounds that other men had inflicted upon them. They had to, right? 

“Just as well I’m always frustrated with you then,” Kian teased. 

It wasn’t entirely untrue. They could bicker for Ireland and America combined, and they did. But there were other frustrations, too. Kian relished the way that Ezra would edge him with just his tongue, stringing him along until he was writhing and groaning against the other man’s plush bedsheets and cursing his name. He knew just how to frustrate him in ways that left him begging for more. 

“I don’t want Harry to like me. I want Harry to hate my feckin’ guts while it keeps him up at night knowing it’s me that has you,” he smirked, sighing sweetly at the press of Ezra’s lips against each inch of his face. It wasn’t completely true, given that Kian wasn’t out and Harry was likely one of the last people on planet earth that he’d want to know he was gay, but he was giddy and delirious and all manner of sense was lost to him the moment he’d felt Ezra’s hands pressed to his waist. 

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If the casual way he bypassed acknowledging it was anything to go by, Ezra figured he simply couldn’t be. Surely, he should have noticed the way Ezra himself had been struck dumb into silence though. He was not a quiet man, and to have him rendered so speechless would almost certainly have helped Kian cotton onto something being… not wrong, as such. No, definitely wrong. But Ezra was reeling.

Obviously, the two of them liked each other well enough. Ezra was operating under no pretenses here. They were the only person the other was sleeping with and he doubted there were plans to change that soon. Labels, while something Ezra longed for, seemed to have no place in the inner workings of Kian’s mind, and so Ezra had allowed that one potential little win to slip away from him. He’d even surprised himself by how eagerly he had handed over control. Shockingly, he hadn’t needed the label of ‘boyfriend’ or ‘partner’ or anything else to reassure himself that Kian was perhaps all-in with him. The other man’s behaviour had been enough. 

But Kian liked him. Had admitted it like it was nothing, as if he were merely commenting on the weather.

Ezra stared at the other man as he walked backwards to the door behind the bar, beckoning Ezra to follow him with a come hither motion that nearly undid him right then and there.

He swallowed roughly, pushing back from the countertop and making his way around the bar. He wasn’t actually sure if there was anyone around to cover for Kian right now, but it wasn’t something he gave any sort of particular fuck about. Not when he was straining against these stupid leggings, and the man he was mad about was telling him he liked him.

He slipped into the keg room after Kian and, as soon as the door was shut behind them, he had the other man pressed up against it.

Ezra’s mouth left a trail of blazing kisses over Kian’s jaw before he sealed their mouths together. Inhaling through his nose, his hands fit against Kian’s hips as he kissed him, deep and slow.

“You like me?” he asked, pulling back slightly. 

Ezra wasn't asking for confirmation. He knew Kian liked him. He was double checking that Kian knew he’d said it out loud, that he was comfortable with Ezra hearing him utter a declaration like that.

The moment Ezra was close enough for the door to swing shut behind him, Kian had the other man pushed up against it. His own pants felt tight as his erection strained against the fabric, but he ignored the throbbing sensation to surge forward and pepper Ezra’s jaw with kisses, his teeth dragging indelicately against the other man’s stubble. He drew back long enough to take a breath, a delighted laugh spilling from his lips as he felt Ezra return the favour, repaying him kind with kisses of his own before their lips finally met, their tongues gliding against each other. Kian rocked his hips gently at the fell of the other man’s hands, enjoying the easy way the two of them seemed to melt into each other’s touch. 

“What?” Kian murmured, the question floating through the air. Like seemed almost juvenile, but there was truly no other word for how Kian felt right about now. Not one that would do the current state of their relationship justice, not one that didn’t feel to heavy and out of place on his tongue. Besotted came to mind, maybe even smitten. He wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that to Ezra, though, mostly because he’d never used those words in his life. 

Truthfully, admitting so openly that he liked Ezra had probably been a great cock up on his end, one he hadn’t quite come to terms with. But there was something a little freeing about their current situation, the slither of a mask that guarded Kian’s face from the full view of his punters, his appearance only partially obscured, but enough to fill him with a bizarre amount of confidence. Andrew McGrath wouldn’t dream of stepping foot in The Black Dog, but it was still the sort of establishment that welcomed all sorts of patrons. He’d heard his fair share of slurs uttered casually from one customer to another, all while wiping down a bar top or pulling a pint. He didn’t like to invite that sort of trouble into his personal life, no matter how much he was enjoying his time with Ezra. Not now, not after everything. 

Tonight, though, he could be anybody he wanted to be. 

He gazed back at Ezra, who was now looking at him with a glint in his eye, a glimmer of hope as he sought out confirmation from Kian. He could give him that, even if only for tonight. There was nobody to hide from, not tucked away in the keg room with a pretty man holding him close and keeping him warm. 

“I like you, yeah,” he breathed, cheeks burning hot. Kian McGrath wasn’t prone to blushing, not usually. “I like your gorgeous little mouth and your ridiculous feckin’ smarm and your eyes that are somehow utterly to fuckin’ die for despite being the same colour as my own.” 

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