Bless you and yours
As well as the cottage you live in.
May the roof overhead be well thatched
And those inside be well matched.

-Irish blessing

Wade Barrett pressed the doorbell at Sheamus's house and waited for a minute. The rain was bathing him even under the protection of the porch roof. Quite unpleasant weather, especially for a holiday when most people would be venturing out today and this evening. His black jacket was sticky with moisture by the time Sheamus pulled the front door open. "Barrett," he hailed. With his uninjured arm he waved Barrett into the house. "Come on in. Good to see you again."

It'd been a while since he saw Sheamus last. Barrett had been out of the picture for a while recovering from a neck injury; now Sheamus was stricken with tendinitis. Today was a day the men needed: not just the two of them, but Alberto Del Rio and Rusev too. The League of Nations together again for a boys' night in. Not too shabby of a way to spend a lame "holiday" like Valentine's Day. Especially if you had no one else to share it with.

"I brought the goods," Barrett said, holding up two six-packs of Guinness. It wasn't his choice of beer, exactly, but he knew his buddy Sheamus was fond of it, as proven by the beam on his white face.

"Man after my own heart." He took one of the packs into his good hand.

"I didn't see any other cars in the drive. Rusev and Del Rio not here yet?" Barrett kicked off his wet shoes, wriggled out of his soaked jacket, and left them by the door.

"Ooh, actually, Rusev said he was going to spend tonight with Lana. He thought she was going to be busy with a photo shoot, but I guess it got postponed."

Barrett followed Sheamus into the kitchen. "Ah. So he's not coming?"

"'Fraid not."

"What about Del Rio?"

"Haven't heard from him since this morning, but it might depend on his wife and the kiddos."

Barrett could have figured that. Family came first; blood relatives and those bound to you by law, anyway. "So it's just us?"

"For now." Bringing Guinness might have been a waste of money, Barrett realized. Sheamus had two shelves stocked with the beer, cans and bottles. "That alright with you?"

"It's fine with me." Things wouldn't be awkward. Barrett and Rusev left to discourse awkwardly, just them, would have been a bigger issue. But he knew Sheamus well. He liked the guy.

"Trade you the warm stuff for a cold one."

Sheamus handed a bottle of Guinness off to Barrett and stashed the other six-pack away on the top shelf in the fridge. Good Lord, was Wade handsome today. Sheamus was used to looking at him barely clothed at all, so how did a tight-fitting Preston North End t-shirt and dark slim jeans make him so gorgeous? He certainly didn't feel as attractive in his gray Notre Dame hoodie and baggy jeans.

Be cool, he warned himself. It's nothing, it's fine. Just like any other day, you and him, hanging out…together, alone…

"What do you have planned for us?" Barrett twisted the cap off his beer.

Sheamus cocked his head. "Huh?"

"For the night in." He took a swig. "You got anything planned, games or…?"

"Ah. Well, I did set the Monchengladbach and Hamburger SV game to record this morning. That was more for myself, though. Didn't know how much the others would care about it."

"Well, you know I care. We could always throw it on for a while, till we hear from Del Rio."

"Alright, yeah. Sounds good to me."

Wow, you're so interesting, Sheamus. How does he manage to just strip my ability to speak?

His crush on Wade was outstanding. It was difficult to say when and where it actually began, but his feelings were perfectly obvious (to himself, at least) several months ago on Raw when Barrett ultimately helped him win a match against Neville by providing himself as a distraction. Little had Wade known just how badly Sheamus had been distracted by his presence at ringside.

They used to despise each other. Now the Celtic Warrior couldn't get enough of the King of the Ring.

"Can I get you something to eat?" Sheamus offered. "I was going to grill some hamburgers and hot dogs, but the rain made me reconsider."

"I'll just tear into one of these like a slob," Barrett answered him, grabbing a bag of barbecue chips off the table. Sheamus had gone all out for this guys' night in. The table was crowded with a variety of chips, dips, and sweets.

"We're growing lads. I didn't think I could get enough food to satisfy us all."

Barrett chuckled. "Us all." Wonder where Del Rio's hiding away.

A roll of thunder rocked the house. Sheamus and Barrett situated themselves on the spacious couch. Sheamus took one end and Barrett occupied the middle cushion. So he doesn't think I'm feeling uncomfortable, that's it.

"I like your house," Barrett said as Sheamus pulled the soccer—the football, real football—game up from the DVR. "Don't know if I've ever been here before."

"Thanks. If the WWE is my home away from home, this is kind of my home away from home away from home."

"Do you ever miss Ireland?"

"Oh, hell yeah. Every day. Not the people, so much, but the scenery."

"Ah."

"I'll tell you, I've travelled all over this country, all over the world, and nothing really compares to it."

Barrett took a sip of beer. Bitter stuff, borderline nasty. He could handle it.

"Have you ever been?"

"A couple of times," Barrett responded. "Last time I did was back in November. For that house show in Dublin."

"That's right, you were there," Sheamus said, nodding at the recent memory. "But you didn't have a match, right?"

"No. But you did. Pretty good match against Finn Balor. That wasn't something I was going to miss out on in person."

Wade's eyes were on the television, watching the players who looked two inches tall, but Sheamus dared to look his way for a moment. He came all the way to Ireland for me?

"Plus, you know," Wade deflected, almost too quickly, "I had to see the beauty of the country myself. Cameras don't really do the place justice."

"No, they don't. Have you been to the Cliffs of Moher?"

"I can't say I have."

"Oh, fella. You've got to see them sometime. They're over two-hundred meters tall, eight kilometers wide. You can see everything from up there. The craggy coastline, the stretching Atlantic. A man's never felt smaller, standing at the top. Almost humbles you. And let me tell you something, dangerous as it is to trek the area after dusk, the best time to look out over the cliffside is sunset. The way the pinks and oranges reflect off the water, the way the light hits the ocean with a blinding sparkle. You swear you're looking into the very face of God."

Sheamus had never talked like this before, not that Barrett had ever heard, anyway. It was affectionate…and, in a way, refreshing. Barrett was dazzled by the explanation, like he could close his eyes and view the cliffs from right here, having never been.

"Anyway." Sheamus cleared his throat and downed a bit more of his beer. Retaining his manhood by proving rugged against an unsweetened beer. He returned his line of sight to the game. "If you're ever in the neighborhood, you should drop by."

"Sounds beautiful."

The score was tied at 0. Not that Barrett nor Sheamus were paying much attention to it, hard as they were staring at the TV. Not that it could captivate their interest as much as the guy sitting next to him.

I never knew he could be so sincere, Barrett thought. Rusev probably would have mocked him for all he'd said. At least I can appreciate him. Er, appreciate…it.

The League of Nations theme music sounded at a quiet volume, and Sheamus wrestled his phone out of his pocket. It brought a smile to Barrett's face. That's his ringtone? What a dear.

"Del Rio, how's it going, head?" Sheamus answered.

"Head? Que?"

"It's just slang. For friend."

"Oh, oh, entiendo. Look, lo siento, compadre, but my wife's really looking to spend tonight with the kids and me. We're taking them to a restaurant."

"Ah, what a shame." Sheamus was in no way disappointed at this news. He could have anticipated this, knowing half of his teammates were in committed relationships. He could only hope Wade wasn't going to be disconcerted about it. "Well, give your sweetheart a kiss for me."

"I'll give her one for me, how 'bout that?"

Sheamus giggled. "Sounds good. We'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah. Sorry again."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I'm sure Wa—Barrett and me'll find something to do."

"Is Rusev there?"

"He cancelled. Spending the night with Lana."

"So you're alone with him?" The tone was light, teasing.

Sheamus leaned his head back, knowing what was coming next. "I mean, we're just at my house."

"Si. You two keep each other entertained, then."

"Shut up."

Del Rio cackled. "Te veo mañana."

"Yep. You too."

"Is he ditching us?" Barrett asked as Sheamus ended the call.

"Yeah. Damn wife and kids keeping us from our boys."

"How dare they."

Sheamus grinned. "Well. Looks like it really is just you and me tonight, W—Barrett." God, stop it with that. Last names are casual, normal. First names are personal. You're not there with him yet.

Yet?

"Good," Wade said, folding his arms over his chest. "'Cause we're the best ones."

Then Wade would make a comment like that and Sheamus would find himself in a losing battle to his feelings. The air was thickening with heat and electricity. "I've got some nachos to put in the oven. I'll be right back."

He escaped to the kitchen, taking a moment to lean over the counter like he'd topple to the floor if he didn't. "Get ahold of yourself, lad," he told himself in a whisper. This is what you wanted, right? This is like…a fantasy. Just don't screw it up.

Sheamus moved the baking dish, which he'd filled this morning with right ingredients, into the oven and set the appliance to preheat. It wouldn't take longer than a couple of minutes, then the nachos were to cook for fifteen. He lingered in the kitchen awhile longer, alone, occasionally peeping around the corner at Wade Barrett. How could one man be so beautiful? So perfect? Such a good guy, for someone Sheamus used to hate.

Cliffs of Moher have nothing on him.

I'm such a prat.

"Need any help in there, mate?" Wade called.

"Oh, no, I've got this. Thanks."

He returned to the living room. Didn't want Barrett to think he was avoiding him. He stood by the couch, not reclaiming his seat just yet.

"How's the game?" Sheamus asked, clearing his throat again.

"Bit boring," Wade said. Both his arms draped over the back of the couch. He looked over at Sheamus. "What's on your mind, Shea? What are you thinking about?"

Shea was a nickname Barrett had considered calling him so many times in the past. Rusev and Alberto might badger him for it, but Sheamus was different. He'd proven that many times by now.

A pale man's disadvantage was an inability to hide a flush in his cheeks. Barrett noticed Sheamus scrubbing his face as if to wipe it away. Oh, bollocks, I hope I didn't make him uncomfortable.

"Eh…" Sheamus said. "Not a lot, really."

Barrett was patient. Something was there. If Sheamus trusted him as a friend, Barrett vowed to listen to whatever he had to say, if he felt like saying it.

"I actually, uh, I got you something. A little present."

"Did you?" Barrett asked, smiling. A Valentine's Day present?

"Well, sort of. It was going to be for all four of us. Sort of a…symbol of our brotherhood. You know."

Barrett was touched. Once more he was verifying himself as someone outside the cocky, loud, juvenile—though all four members of the LoN were fairly juvenile—wrestler he appeared to be on Raw, on Smackdown, around the others. He had a soft side. A sweet side. He was brave enough to expose it to Barrett.

What is all of this supposed to mean, Wade? Are you into him? It's pretty obvious he's into you, but…

"It's kind of stupid," Sheamus said, wincing.

"I want to see it," Barrett insisted.

"Alright. I'll go fetch it."

Sheamus set the timer on the oven as soon as it indicated it was hot and ready to bake. Wade's gift, with Rusev's and Del Rio's and his own, was tucked away in a red bag, safely placed in black boxes. The items inside the boxes all matched each other, so there was no confusion as to which box belonged to which teammate. Sheamus removed three of the boxes from the bag, setting them aside on the table, and brought the bag back into the living room.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Sheamus said. "Red's more masculine than pink, right?"

"Who cares?" Wade stated. He took the bag. "Thank you, Shea, this was nice of you."

Sheamus was melting like a popsicle vulnerable on a summer day. I love that, Wade, call me that again.

Wade drew the black box out of the bag and tugged the lid off. Inside was a silver Celtic Claddagh band, which Wade regarded with full chocolate eyes. "Oh, wow, this is stunning," he said, wiggling the ring out of the slit.

Sheamus was thrilled. "You know what it is?"

"It's Irish, that's all I know for sure," Wade laughed.

"It's a traditional ring that represents love, loyalty, and friendship. Three virtues I figured our team stood by." Wade slid the ring onto his pointer finger, and Sheamus caught the tip of it between his forefinger and thumb, pretending he was inspecting the ring. He felt a shock, unphysical but just as real. "See, the hands, they represent the friendship, the crown represents loyalty, and the heart represents…love."

"That's heartfelt, Sheamus."

"You like it?"

"I love it."

Sheamus gave himself appraisal inwardly. Nicely done, Shea. Sounds a lot better when I hear it from him, though.

"Did you get one for yourself?" Wade queried.

"Of course. I just didn't want to wear it until I gave this to you. That way the surprise wouldn't be given away too early."

"Do me a favor."

"What's that?"

Wade looked up, from the ring to Sheamus's eyes. Straight into them, deep through him. "Get the other boys something else."

"Erm, why, exactly?"

"Because this means something." Wade curled his fingers into a fist, holding it up so Sheamus could see the ring again. "They wouldn't get it. They don't really understand you the way I do."

"They might think it's silly?"

They might make fun of you. Barrett didn't give the thought verbal life. "Maybe. But I sure don't. I love it. I love that it has meaning behind it."

Sheamus licked his lips. "Well, uh, there's even more meaning, depending on how you wear the ring."

"Oh?" History and culture lessons from him were so fascinating. Barrett could have listened to him talk forever. Guess that means you're into him. Guess I've liked him forever and it's taking this kind of moment to figure it out.

"See, like most rings, wearing it on the left hand indicates lifelong commitment. If the point of the heart is toward the fingertips, it means you're engaged. The point of the heart toward the wrist means you're married."

Barrett figured the left hand meant something along those lines, which is why he'd placed it on his right hand, not the left. He wasn't anywhere near ready for that sort of life. "And the right hand is just…"

Only now did he let go of Barrett's finger. "If the point of the heart's toward the fingertips, the wearer is single, and may be looking for love. Toward the wrist, he's in a relationship."

Barrett stared the ring down. The heart was pointed at his wrist.

"So you might wanna flip that around," Sheamus mentioned.

But he didn't. He lifted his gaze back onto Sheamus and secured it there. "What if I don't?"

"Are you seeing someone behind my back?" Sheamus teased.

"I never wanted to be with anyone as long as I was with the WWE. Too much stress on a common home life. Too many days and nights away. Insecurity, instability, worrying, concern, mistrust…didn't sound like the life for me."

Sheamus nodded. "That's understandable."

"But then you wonder, what if they're with you? What if the one you're meant to be with just so happens to literally be with you, every step of the way? In all the traveling, in all the days and nights away from home? What if no matter where you go, when you're with them…you are home?"

Sheamus's face lifted with color. His heart was flipping inside his chest. "What are you saying, Wade?"

Wade Barrett wrapped his hand around Sheamus's fingers and gave them a squeeze. "I'm saying this is the way I want to wear the ring because I want to be with the man who gave it to me."

Sheamus's lips parted. Barrett took it as a cue. "You—"

But he was interrupted, cut off as Barrett leaned forward and tenderly pressed his lips onto Sheamus's. The sincerity, the sweetness, the warmth, how real this was and could always be—unveiled, uncovered, brought to light in a way more magnificent than the sun's streaks flashing off the ocean. This was happening, it was truth, and Sheamus was ready to hold his breath and leap into it and discover what could happen…

Barrett pushed Sheamus gently onto his back, laying atop him, not letting up on the kiss. He tasted so good, this felt so right that Barrett wondered what his dumb ass was doing not kissing Sheamus up until this point. I'll make it up to you, I was a fool once but now you're mine and I want this always…

The oven beeped in the kitchen.

The nachos were ready.

The rain was loud on the roof.

Reality returned.

"Guess I better get those before the place burns down," Sheamus sighed.

"I'll help," Wade said.

Sheamus almost danced towards the kitchen. His feet were nimble and the floor was a cloud under his soles. Wade Barrett just kissed me, and I'm the bloody happiest man alive right now. Barrett, following behind Sheamus, couldn't help but grin at his countenance. He was physically and visibly abuzz. Wade couldn't lie to himself—he was feeling the same.

"I planned a lot for today," Sheamus said, lifting the hot pan carefully from the oven. He set it on the stovetop and pulled the mitt off his hand. "Food. Beer. Laughter. Games, maybe some Texas Hold 'Em, TV, maybe a movie. And that back there, that wasn't part of the plan…but I'm glad it happened.

"Can it happen again?" Wade asked. A fresh grin, razzing and sensual, unfurled over his bearded face.

"Oh, hell yeah. I'm not feeling so nervous about it anymore."

Wade snaked his arms around Sheamus's waist from behind and kissed his neck. "The lads canceling on us was a pretty good call."

"I'll say. They should cancel on us more often."

"Or we just make plans without them. Some with, but some without. I like it when it's just the two of us."

Sheamus rested his head back against Wade's broad shoulder. "I do, too," he said, soft.

"Where's your ring? I'd love to see it."

Sheamus figured the nachos would need time to cool anyhow. He trotted towards the table, scooped one of the ring boxes into his hand, and freed the ring from inside.

"Allow me."

Is this really happening? Yes, was reality's answer to Sheamus's mental question, as Wade took the ring from Sheamus, held up Sheamus's right hand, and prepared to slide the ring over his finger.

"Wait, it's toward the fingers, or toward the wrist?"

"If the heart's pointed toward the wrist, it means he's in a relationship."

"Then with your permission, Shea, I'd like to put this on you with the heart pointing towards your wrist and and begin a relationship."

Sheamus nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, hell yes."

Wade pushed the ring up Sheamus's finger. Now it was official.

After one more kiss. The cloud the new couple stood on was labeled nine.

Sheamus looped his arms over Wade's shoulders, around his neck. "Well then. Happy Valentine's Day, Wade."

Barrett's voice took on a softer pitch than he was used to speaking in. This is going to be so different, so interesting…so, so good. "Happy Valentine's Day, Sheamus."

He was ready.