Jack's dreams were filled with gaping mouths without tongues and bloated eyes bursting from their sockets. He'd woken several times throughout the night and eventually resorted to turning on the TV. He set the volume to a low murmur and attempted to fall asleep to Julia Child's directions on cooking a chicken.

His eyes kept flicking to the hall, expecting to see Kieran round the corner at any moment. Part of him wanted some midnight comfort, but dreaded the thought of it and the questions that would be sure to follow.

He jarred awake as another vivid nightmare hit him. Sitting up, he rubbed at his eyes as he looked around. Thin sunlight streamed in through the windows, lending the open room an air of welcoming eeriness.

The soft sound of bare feet on the floor drew Jack's attention to the hallway. His eyes widened, and his breath caught at the sight of Kieran.

The loose pants hanging from his hips was all Kieran wore, and his hair was damp and disheveled, fresh from a shower. "Good morning, my sweet," he said as he reached the edge of the couch.

"Yeah, pretty morning." Jack cleared his throat and looked away, grabbing his phone to have something to busy himself with. "Good morning."

"Or would you prefer… Top o' the mornin' to ya'."

"Oh, my god," Jack mumbled, fumbling with his phone. He glanced up to find Kieran smiling mischievously at him. "Is that your, uh, real accent? I mean, not to be offensive or anything. That's just more Lucky Charms than I was expecting, but it does go more that way sometimes. Not judging. Just kinda noticed. Maybe. I dunno. I'm not great with accents."

Kieran shrugged. "It changes as I move around, but a certain level of sophistication is expected in my line of work. Don't want to come off as a pub-crawling farmer, do I?"

"Guess not."

"How did you sleep?" asked Kieran.

"Good enough." Jack looked away and forced his breaths to come slow and steady as he tapped through the login screen of his obligatory phone game. The tips of his ears burned as the silence drew on.

Kieran knew. At least he wasn't saying anything. But was that better or worse?

Jack braced himself and looked up, only to find Kieran missing. A cabinet closed in the kitchen, and he turned to find Kieran setting a small grinder and french press on the counter.

He rested his arms on the back of the couch and got more comfortable. His eyes roamed over Kieran's bare chest. The man was unfairly pretty. Competent, charming, not in it for the sex… There had to be a catch.

Kieran turned and reached up to grab a pair of mugs from another cabinet, and Jack's eyes tracked down from broad shoulders to a large scar marring the skin of Kieran's lower right back.

Jack sat up to get a better look. It wasn't just one scar, it was a pair: two long gashes, each about two inches.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"Something wrong?" asked Kieran.

"Nothing. I'm good. You're good," Jack replied, dropping back down and losing his view of the scars. He lightly scratched his fingernails across the back of his left hand. "That's a… big scar?"

Kieran reached back to touch the scar and measured it with his thumb and forefinger. "It is a long one, yes," he said as he scrutinized his fingers. "From my younger years. There was a disagreement."

"Big enough to get shivved in a parking lot?" Jack said incredulously. With such a dismissive tone, there had to be a good story behind the scar. If he could get a date range and general location, then maybe he could track down some police reports. Maybe some medical records if he could swing it.

Sam's voice echoed its mantra of "no spying."

"I suppose." Kieran came out from behind the kitchen counter and approached the back of the couch, stopping in front of Jack.

"You're just making me more curious," Jack whined in frustration. Most likely, it was something stupid. Like falling off a bike or poor knife safety in a kitchen.

"Perhaps, one day, I'll tell you all about how I almost lost a sheep shearing competition," Kieran said as he leaned down.

Bewildered, Jack leaned back and gave Kieran another once over. Kieran did not look the part of some sheep-toting farmhand. "You can shear a sheep?"

"I can shear a sheep in under two minutes," Kieran whispered before swooping in and kissing the side of Jack's neck.

"That's… What?" Jack watched, mouth agape, as Kieran sauntered back into the kitchen to finish making coffee. "I think I'm supposed to be impressed? Why'd you quit?"

Kieran's soft smile turned melancholic. "I moved on from that phase in my life."

Being on a farm made a little more sense for the lack of background. And having sheep shearing competitions fit the bill for middle of nowhere Ireland. Jack couldn't imagine what it would have been like growing up in a small village, much less on a farm. Kieran must have taken his education and run the moment he got the chance.

Jack slouched as more questions were raised. "I guess that'd be a fun hobby in rural Ireland," he said, scratching his head.

Kieran paused as he poured the coffee, and a small frown formed. His eyes searched the mug in his hand before he looked up with a lopsided smile. "Not a hobby, exactly. I think it would be more akin to your 4-H Club. You learn to care for animals, grow your own food, and stay out of your parents' hair for a while."

"I got sent to summer camp. Once," Jack said, grinning. "Nature didn't agree with me. Got stung, bit, scratched up, and thrown in the lake."

"I'm told such things build character."

Jack snorted and rolled his eyes. "My dad said the same thing."

His chest tightened in uncertainty. A looming fog told him his dad never cared. That was why his dad left. If death was considered leaving.

Jack's fingers dug into the back of the couch as conflicting memories warred with each other. Images of shared laughter and shooting off fireworks were bright and solid against a backdrop of apathy and disregard.

He could remember his dad telling him his experience at camp built character with loving understanding, but he had the same memory painted with cold indifference. Which one was real?

A light, circling pressure on his hand drew Jack back into the present, and he blinked up at Kieran's concerned face. He swallowed and quickly looked away.

"I'm fine. Sorry. Just… memory. Stuff. Things."

Kieran nodded and kissed the top of Jack's head. "How do you take your coffee?"

Jack closed his eyes and sighed in relief. "Anywhere from black to coffee-flavored milk," he replied.

image [https://i.imgur.com/eZY0YUq.png]