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Irish Eyes	By : Rina76 Category: 1 through F > Cowboys and Angels Views: 1741 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboys and Angels, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Irish Eyes
- 2-Irish Cream
- 1
- 2
Cowboys and Angels fic starring the delicious Vincent Cusack (gorgeous actor Allen Leech) and the delightful Shane Butler (equally as gorgeous Michael Legge)

Title - Irish Eyes
Rating - R for now, NC-17 later on.
Summary - Nice straight boy moves in with hip gay guy and much angst and drama occurs.
Warning - Slash (male/male attraction) but that's why you're here, right?

A/N: Goodness me, I�ve fallen in love. I've only seen the film once (when I happened to stumble across it on late-night Aussie TV) so I need to watch it again. Desperately! Problem is, no video stores stock it where I live so I pretty much have to buy it before I can see it again. Which I don't mind doing at all. I'm sure I'll watch it over and over again so I'll get my money's worth out of it! That I'm writing fic about them after only one viewing is proof of how fabulously charming the characters in this film are and if you haven't seen it, go rent Cowboys and Angels now! But there's another film of that same name so make sure you get the one with two pretty boys on the cover.

EDIT - I got a hold of a copy! *happy me* After watching it for the second time, I realised I'd gotten a few details wrong in my fic so I fixed them. Just little things; they don't change the actual story.

And I totally didn't believe the ending, by the way. There was absolutely no chemistry at all between Shane and Gemma. She didn�t even LIKE Shane. She had the hots for Vincent and tried to boink him, for heaven�s sakes! Which is something Shane should have tried to do. He wasn�t straight, no matter how much he insisted he was or what the camera showed you at the end. It just didn�t work. At least, that�s my opinion. I know there are people who won�t agree with me but that�s called freedom of choice. You can choose not to read this fic. And I choose to believe the boys should have ended up together. Therefore, I give you this little story. Enjoy.

***

Shane Butler wipes his sweaty hands on his pants, takes a deep breath and enters the room, trying to project an air of calmness and confidence even though he is fraught with anxiety inside. His baby-faced looks mask his rather adult inner turmoil and his dark brown hair is swept into an up-to-the-minute style very similar to Vincent�s actually, which makes sense because Vincent cut it himself when he gave Shane the Queer Eye makeover. Looking as impeccably presented as ever, Shane�s flatmate and hairdresser is kneeling on the floor in his workshop, back to Shane, a measuring tape around his neck, painstakingly working on one of his detailed outfits. Vincent knows Shane is there and his tall form stiffens slightly but he doesn�t turn around or acknowledge him in any way which doesn�t really surprise Shane in the least, not after the shitty way he treated his blond friend two evenings ago. Full of regret for being such a quick-tempered twat, Shane wants to apologise but can�t make the words come out of his stupid mouth so instead, he picks up a broom, beginning the sweep up the scraps of fabric and paper that Vincent has strewn all over the floor in his creative whirlwind. A furrow appearing in his otherwise flawless forehead, Vincent tries to continue working but the sound of Shane moving and sweeping behind him is highly distracting. Finally, he abandons his project, stands up and turns around in annoyance, hands on his hips.

�What are you doing?�

�Helping,� Shane replies casually, even though his heart is thumping.

Vincent stares at his dark-haired flatmate for a second, bustling about clumsily with the broom. �If you really want to help, you can start by leaving me alone,� he advises acidly. �I got a ton of work to do.�

As Vincent turns back around, ignoring him, Shane sighs and stops sweeping, placing both hands over the top of the broom handle and resting his chin on it like a crutch.

�You have every right to be mad at me,� he says ruefully in his almost musical Irish accent. �I was an utter prick to you the other night.�

�Not gonna argue with you there,� Vincent mutters bitterly, his back still to Shane.

Sighing again, Shane leans the broom against the table and walks over to the other young man. He hesitates for a moment and then lightly places a palm on Vincent�s broad shoulder, feeling the heat of the second male�s skin under the striped brown t-shirt he�s wearing. Vincent tenses, his spine straightening, immediately halting work on the half-finished material in his hands.

�Look, I�m sorry,� Shane begins contritely. �I wasn�t myself the other night. My friend Jerry � who was like a father to me � had a heart attack and died at his own retirement party. Then I took this pill and it messed me up even more. I didn�t mean to do what I did.�

�Well, I�m truly sorry about your friend but that�s no excuse for hitting me.� Shane flinches at the hurt and betrayal in Vincent�s voice. �And you owe me a new pair of glasses, bitch.�

�I know, I know. I just want to make it up to you. I really am sorry,� Shane repeats, guilt coming through in his tone. �I got jealous and totally overreacted.�

�Yeah, you did,� Vincent returns accusingly, swivelling and facing Shane, anger sparking in his green eyes. �It�s not like I was trying to steal Gemma away from you or anything. We were just dancing. That�s not a crime, is it? I know you like her, Shane, but you have to remember that she was my friend long before you met her and secondly, I�m not into carpet, no matter how blonde and beautiful it is. In case you�ve forgotten, I like dick. Preferably hard and preferably up my ass!�

After getting all that pent-up emotion out, Vincent slumps back in the nearest chair, exhaustion showing in his handsome, tanned face, caused by a long night of sleeplessness. Sounding weary, he finishes, �You had absolutely no reason to be jealous at all.�

�I wasn�t jealous that you were dancing with Gemma,� Shane says quietly, dropping his eyes, lashes ink-black against his fair complexion.

�Pardon?� Vincent squints up at him in bewilderment. �But you just said...�

�I was jealous that she was dancing with you.�

Scratching his trendily coiffed head in bewilderment, Vincent blurts out, �Okay, I�m confused. Are you high or something? Because you�re not making any sense, brother.�

Raising his gaze, Shane bravely meets Vincent�s baffled eyes. �What I�m trying to say, Vincent, is that I�m not interested in Gemma,� he explains patiently. �I never was. I was interested in you all along. It just took me a while to realise it.�

Even more perplexed, Vincent exclaims, �But...but you�re straight! I know you are!�

Frowning, Shane asks, �What makes you believe that?�

�Well, I heard you with Keith,� Vincent points out. �I heard you and him talking. I was in my bedroom at the time.� He deliberately chooses not to elaborate, �With Gemma who sat on my dick and tried to shag me straight which was completely useless and a most awkward and uncomfortable experience and one that I hope to never, ever repeat in this lifetime.�

No, he certainly does not want to reveal that mortifying little incident.

�I heard what he said to you, Shano,� Vincent states. �And then it went awfully quiet in there for a minute.�

Blushing in remembrance of how Keith had leaned over him on the floor, kissing his neck and unbuttoning his shirt, Shane stammers, �You...you were listening to us?�

�Thin walls, you know.� Vincent�s sensual lips twist in a humourless grin. �Whatever he was doing to you, I definitely heard you stop him. You said you weren�t like him.�

�Just because I didn�t sleep with him doesn�t mean anything,� Shane protests, spreading his hands for emphasis. �I stopped him because it just didn�t feel right. When I said that I wasn�t like him, I meant that I didn�t want to be part of his violent, ugly world anymore. The things I�ve seen lately...the things I�ve done... Christ.� He sounds both disgusted and ashamed of himself and kicks an empty cotton reel across the floor, watching it hit the wall and bounce away.

�He�s been using me to traffic drugs and I almost let him use my body as well. I decided right then and there that I wasn�t gonna let that bastard have power over me anymore. He was ruining my life and I wanted it back. I wanted my freedom back. I wanted my friends back.� He swallows, opaque blue eyes lifting to Vincent�s, beseeching forgiveness.

�I wanted YOU back, Vincent.� Shane�s voice lowers, almost breaks with pain. �I-I missed you.�

Touched by the raw honesty shown to him, Vincent begins to say softly, �Shane...I-� but the first boy raises a hand and cuts him off.

�When I stalked over to you in the club,� Shane continues solemnly, �I didn�t really want to hit you.� He pauses. �Well, actually, I did because I was so angry, but I wanted to do something else more than that.�

�Like what?� Vincent queries dumbly. His eyes widen as Shane steps in closer, the other boy�s hands slipping into his spiked blond hair.

�Like this,� Shane murmurs before brazenly leaning down and slanting his mouth over Vincent�s own. Quickly recovering from his astonishment, Vincent gives a muffled groan and grabs the front of Shane�s charcoal jumper, pulling the boy�s lithe figure into his lap, the chair creaking as more weight is added to it. Vincent groans again as he sinks into the lusciousness of the other young man�s full, beautifully-shaped lips. He�ll be the first to admit that he�s often thought about Shane�s rosy mouth and what it would be like to kiss it. Well, now he knows. And the reality is even better than he imagined; softer, sweeter and deliciously welcoming.

Eyes falling closed, Shane opens to Vincent�s persuasive probing, allowing his friend�s tongue to enter his mouth and twine around his own, shivers rushing up his vertebrae at the wet, hot, immensely thrilling sensation. As they get intimately familiar with each other�s taste, Vincent�s long, artistic fingers cup Shane�s face, the second boy's fair, freckled skin as smooth as a girl�s. With the clumsy eagerness of the young and na�ve, Shane tries to match the exploratory thrusts of Vincent�s tongue, stroke by stroke, and learns rapidly, their jaws soon moving together in an intuitive rhythm. Dizzy with an overwhelming pleasure unlike any drug he�s ever taken, Shane all but melts against Vincent�s hard, warm body, marvelling at how fantastic a kisser the more experienced male is. Shane hasn�t kissed many girls; in fact, only two and one of them was a pudgy office worker who leapt on him at last year�s Christmas party after he accidentally walked under a sprig of mistletoe. That kiss was sloppy and nowhere near as exciting and exhilarating as this one. This kiss makes him feel alive. Glowing even, from the inside out. He almost whimpers with disappointment when Vincent gradually ends it, slowing down and pulling back, licking his wet lips.

�Shane, my boy, you are the sweetest thing I�ve ever tasted,� Vincent declares, smacking one more peck on that delectably supple and now swollen red mouth. �I�ve wanted to kiss the hell out of you since the day we met. Well, met again. Even when you had flat hair and no sense of fashion whatsoever.�

He gazes into Shane�s eyes, seeing the same deep desire he feels reflected in the two pools of lake-blue staring back at him. �Since you�re sitting in my lap, I gather you�ve been wanting to kiss me as well, yeah?�

�Not at first,� Shane divulges. �I didn�t really know you then. Or myself. But lately, yeah.� He smiles shyly, adorable dimples popping into his cheeks. �Lately, I�ve definitely been wanting to.�

�Lord, we�re fucking idiots.� Vincent rolls his eyes dramatically. �Why on earth did we wait so long to do this?�

�Does that mean I�m forgiven?� Shane questions hopefully.

Arching a finely groomed brow, Vincent drawls, �That depends.�

�On what?�

�On whether you ever bring drugs into our apartment again.�

�I won�t,� Shane vows seriously. �Actually, there is some here now but I�m getting rid of it. I�m not touching that shit anymore, I swear. I mean, look at what it made me do.� He very gently caresses Vincent�s cheekbone, the blond male wincing a little at the soreness there. Shane�s own nose is tender from where Gemma punched him in a most unladylike and embarrassing manner but he�s not concerned about that. He�s more concerned about what damage he�s caused to Vincent and kisses the bruised spot on his cheek softly, as if wanting to erase the brutal slap from both their memories.

�I�m so sorry, Vincent,� he whispers, remorse etched in his soulful blue eyes. �I�ll never do anything like that again. You�re the best friend I�ve ever had in my whole life and I don�t want to lose you.�

Scoldingly, Vincent replies, �Well, stay away from the pills and powders and you won�t. All right?�

Nodding, Shane makes a pact with himself to stay clean from now on. Risking his friendship and potential new relationship with Vincent just isn�t worth it. The older Irishman means the world to him. Nothing is worth risking that.

Curiously, Vincent asks, �How far did he get before you stopped him? Keith, I mean.�

Cheeks flushing slightly, Shane mumbles, �He didn�t...uh, touch...anything.�

�Good. I want to be the first guy to touch you,� the blond says possessively, flashing Shane a wicked smirk. �But not right now, unfortunately,� he adds in heavy regret. �I have a fashion parade to put on in a matter of hours and I need all the bloody help I can get.� He shoves Shane off his lap and directs him to a mannequin, placing the brunette boy�s hands onto a piece of fabric draped over the dummy�s torso.

�Here, hold this.�

Smiling, Shane does as he�s told and watches in admiration as Vincent�s talented fingers whiz around, tucking and pinning the material into a fashionable piece of wearable art. One day in the near future, Shane thinks to himself, those talented fingers are going all the way to New York. He�ll miss Vincent, very much, but that�s where he deserves to be. He deserves to learn and study in a big city, to meet important new contacts, to have a brilliant and colourful career.

However, Shane hopes to get laid before he leaves.

***

To be continued...
- 1
- 2
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Irish Eyes