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Irial had enjoyed living alone.
He'd enjoyed the quiet calm of his apartment, the way that everything was suited just to him, he'd liked the indepedence and he'd never once thought about getting a roommate, not when he'd first moved in with about a hundred dollars to his name and a tiny coffee shop, not when he'd spent the nights miserably alone, even when the pipes broke and the repair bill was exorbitant.
But sharing with Niall... It wasn't half bad. It was quite nice, if he was being honest, which he usually was. He'd never thought he'd enjoy having company so much, and, well, it showed.
Gabriel found it hilarious.
"So, Irial, I guess you're one of those people now, huh?" Gabriel asked one day as he wiped down the counter.
Irial looked over, frowning from where he was trying - and failing - to figure out the new espresso machine. "What?"
"You know, sappy domestic people," Gabe explained, waving the rag around a little and grinning. "Morning kisses, omelettes, coffee, sharing clothes, those people."
"I am not a sappy domestic person," he objected, then realized how defensive he sounded, and backtracked a little. "I mean, we kiss, yeah, and you know I can't cook for shit, so Niall has to cook otherwise he'll starve, and the coffee thing was one of the selling points on him moving in, but..."
Gabriel was obviously trying not to laugh. "And the clothes-sharing?"
"We are not a sappy domestic couple!" Irial snapped, thinking irritably of the fact that the shirt he was wearing was, in fact, Niall's. He'd been running late, and it had been the closest, and he'd never admit it to Gabe, but it smelled like Niall, and that may have been a factor in his decision to wear it.
The laughter he'd been trying to contain burst out in harsh barks. "All right, boss man," Gabe got out, in a tone that very clearly said he didn't believe it at all and found it extremely funny that Irial would bother to deny it.
Irial glared at Gabriel until he went back to working, still grinning like a loon.
He wasn't one of those people, was he?
He was still thinking about it that night when Niall came home, a pronounced scowl on his face as he stalked over. The dark expression lightened a little when seeing Irial, but Niall made it a point not to hide his feelings most of the time.
"What's wrong, love?" Irial asked, patting the space beside him on the sofa.
"I hate people," Niall grumbled, tossing aside his messenger bag, filled as usual with job applications, and flopping down.
"Careful," Irial laughed, shifting a little so Niall could lean against his more comfortably. "Why do you hate people?"
"Because I do," he pouted. "They're mean as hell and refuse to listen to me."
He hid his grin by kissing the top of Niall's head, unable to meet his eyes for fear of laughing out loud and offending his sulking boyfriend.
"I mean," Niall continued. "I'm employable! I have an excellent resume and like three degrees and years of experience, and the only interview that even went a little well was the one with Sorcha and her firm, and God knows that's probably only because she remembers me as a kid!"
"I think it's the desperation," Irial advised. "You need to give the impression that they need you more than you need them."
"But I do need them more than they need me," he answered miserably, burying his face into Irial's chest. "At this rate, I'm going to become a bum on the side of the road," he added, the words muffled.
"You're not going to become a bum, Niall."
He couldn't make out the next words, but knew Niall well enough to know they were something along the lines of "just watch". Irial also knew Niall well enough to know that he could fall asleep literally anywhere, and on top of Irial wasn't an uncommon position, but they'd both be uncomfortable and sore in the morning.
It took some coaxing, but he managed to get the exhausted Niall out of his clothes and into their bed. Irial moved away, but was stopped by a hand on his wrist.
"Stay," Niall murmured sleepily.
"I'm not going anywhere far," Irial laughed softly, gently pulling away.
He turned off the lights and locked the door before climbing into bed, and Niall immediately curled into him. As fiercely independent and bright as he was, Niall's worry was almost childlike. He was so scared of having to ask for help, but asleep, he wasn't afraid of needing someone.
When he woke up the next morning, Irial was alone under the blankets, but he could hear Niall moving around in the kitchen and he could smell bacon cooking.
Irial didn't care that he was pretty much living the cheesiest scene of any romantic comedy, he smiled, turning his face further into the pillow with a dopey grin. Niall was humming out in the kitchen, something that Irial could vaguely remember as being on one of the CDs he played in the cafe.
Stepping into the kitchen, he found Niall wearing a pair of pajama pants Irial knew weren't Niall's, and cooking breakfast.
Irial wrapped his arms around Niall from behind, planting a soft grin on the side of neck. "Good morning," he greeted.
Niall grinned happily, poking at the bacon. "Good morning," he said back.
He had become one of those sappy domestic people, Irial thought suddenly. Gabriel could never, ever know.