Holly ran her hands through her hair one more time, rinsing the last of the shampoo out.  As she poured conditioner into her free hand, there was a noise near the door.  She pulled the opaque shower curtain back far enough to poke her head through and sighed resignedly as she tugged the curtain back into place and began to smooth the conditioner into her hair.

"Don't you think we're a bit old to be showering together, Keiran?"

"You might be, but I'm not," came Keiran's voice through the curtain.  "Besides, there're plenty of adults who shower with their 'significant other,'" he added, quotation marks clear in his voice.

Rolling her eyes and holding back a snicker, she focused on working the conditioner through her hair evenly and replied, "Well, we are neither adults, nor each other's 'significant other,' so what are you doing in here?"

"I was bored."

Another sigh.  "Keir, we're sixteen.  People are gonna get the wrong idea if they find you in here.  And since when am I your only source of entertainment?"

"Who cares if I'm in here?" he asked, brushing her question off.  "And -- hey, wait a minute, who would be coming in here to find me?!  I'm the only one who should be allowed to intrude upon your privacy."

"You're not allowed, Keir; Dad would kill you if he caught you in here with me."

There was a slight pause.  "You still haven't answered my question.  Who would be coming in here?"

"Jealous?" Holly asked.

"Mildly," he replied.  "I'm your 'bff' or whatever, remember?  This is supposed to be a privilege reserved solely for me."  He paused, and she heard a grunt and a foot banging against the cabinets as he settled himself on the counter.  "I'm the only boy you ever bathed with; surely that ought to count for something."

Absentmindedly scrubbing her back, she commented, "You're the only one who ever intrudes upon me, I promise.  No one comes in here.  Well, except you.  Intruder."

She heard his laughter over the sound of running water and grinned, continuing to clean herself.  "So am I still the only guy you've ever bathed with?"

"Keiran Michael McNamara!  Are you trying to imply that I might've --"

"I'm not implying," he interrupted.  "I'm asking.  You're my best friend, and I'm asking if you've ever --"

"D'you honestly think I would do that?" she all but shouted at the shower curtain.  "I'm sixteen, Keiran!"

"So'm I, and I've -- shit," he broke off abruptly, and she slammed the faucet off, ignoring the fact that she had yet to attend to her legs.  Reaching out to grab her towel, she caught his eye.

"You've what, Keir?" she asked calmly as she retreated behind the curtain, beginning to dry off.  Inside, though, her mind was racing.  He had...It was unthinkable.  They'd lived next door to each other since they were barely a year old, and she still had a hard time thinking of him as anything other than her braid- and pigtail-pulling best friend.

"I -- I," he stuttered, and she wrapped the towel around herself, stepping out of the shower.

Brown eyes met green, and Keiran flinched.  "Holly --"

"Just tell me," she murmured, levering herself up to sit next to him on the counter.  He glanced at her sideways before staring at the wall, blushing.

"Well, last night -- you know Mum and Dad are out of town -- Lynne came over and -- oh, God, Hol, it was awful!"

She grabbed his hand, squeezing it comfortingly.  "Did you actually --"

"Yes," he groaned.  "It was horrible.  I don't think she even -- Hol, I just...is it supposed to be horrible the first time?" he asked, burying his face in her bare shoulder.

Holly reached up with her free hand, stroking his hair gently.  "I don't know.  Did you talk to her, after?"

He sighed and muttered, "Didn't get a chance.  She dumped me."

"What?!  Why did she -- wasn't she --"

"Ha," he said dejectedly.  "I was definitely not her first.  And, apparently, she was used to guys who were better, so...so she took her clothes and left."

"Oh, Keiran," she whispered, pulling him closer.  He snuggled against her, and she smiled, remembering how they'd slept curled together like puppies when they were little.  A tear made its way down her shoulder, sliding over her collarbone, and continuing until it hit her towel.  "Keiran, Keir, don't cry.  Please don't cry.  She's not worth your tears."

He made a choked noise, and suddenly she felt as if there were a huge knot in her throat.  She had only seen him cry three times in his life: the day he broke his arm, the day his grandmother passed away, and the day his older brother had committed suicide.  To hear even the beginnings of his tears was frightening; she was the one who brought her tears to him, not the other way around.  But she released his hand and his hair, twisting to hug him awkwardly.

Her hair, barely chin-length, was nearly dry by the time his tears had subsided, and he was merely leaning against her, exhausted.  Slowly she released him, untangling herself from his body and grabbing a washcloth from the pile on top of the toilet tank.  She wet it carefully with cool water and leaned up against him again, tilting his head up so she could gently clean away the tear tracks on his face.

"'M sorry," he mumbled.  "Shouldn't have -- you don't need to have me crying all over you like a little baby."

"Keiran," she said firmly, and he looked up at her, brown eyes glassy.  "Don't apologize.  It's what I'm here for."  Poking him gently in the side, she continued.  "'With these hands, I give you my heart, and crown it with my love.'"

He lifted his right hand, mutely showing her the gold claddagh she had given him.  Holly smiled tenderly.  "Where's yours?" he asked, looking pointedly at her bare hand.

She patted his thigh and said, "Move your butt and I'll show you."  She stepped out of the way and he slid over on top of the counter.  Pulling open the drawer he had been blocking, she picked up both the simple silver claddagh he had given her when she turned eight and the gold one, with diamonds and an emerald inset, his grandmother's wedding ring, that he had given her on her sixteenth birthday.

Keiran smiled warmly, cheeks flushed from his crying, and reached into his shirt, pulling out a silver chain upon which rested the very first claddagh they had ever exchanged.  Holly could do nothing but grin and laugh, before pointedly slipping her gold claddagh onto her right hand, heart pointing inward.  She barely noticed his swift intake of breath, mentally preparing herself for his reaction.

"Who?" he asked, voice thick, and she gave him a soft smile.

"Honestly, Keiran, do you even need to ask?"

He sat for a moment, stunned, mouth hanging open ever so slightly.

"My question, though," she murmured, "is whether or not the ring ought to be on my left hand instead?"

There was a long pause, and she felt as if every moment was an eternity, waiting for his answer.  And then he was calmly removing his claddagh, slipping it on his left hand ring finger, heart pointed in towards his own heart, and he looked up, grinning at her.  "Yeah.  Yes, Holly, it ought to be on your left hand."