#but adam parrish in this cursed shirt works too

[steggymus]

in which ronan buys/dreams adam this shirt

[ronans-sepiaphotograph]

Ronan Lynch, post-its and missing Adam Parrish:

Ronan knew he wasn't asking Adam to stay, he would never ask him to stay in the one place he always wanted to leave.

Ronan just wanted him to come back.

"Lynch?" "You're going" "yeah, I am. I'll be back for Thanksgiving tho" "how will you manage?" "Don't I always manage?"

Ronan huffed in response as he was folding one of Adam's shirts. Adam was leaving for Harvard tomorrow. It had been a couple of months since Adam had moved in. His lease on St. Agnes was up and Ronan didn't have to think twice about asking.

It had ended up in a fight and Adam snapping at Ronan. Ronan fought back too. In the end he had just stormed of Adam's room and driven for hours and come back around midnight to find Adam silently crying on his bed.

He had held Adam, let him cry because Adam Parrish rarely let his walls down, be vulnerable in front of anyone else.

"okay" "okay what, Parrish?" "I'll stay with you" "finally"

Adam laughed in his chest as they both fell asleep in each other's arms on Adam's shitty mattress.

"Ronan?"

Adam's voice brought him back to his sense. He realised his cheeks were wet and he was gripping Adam's shirt a little too tightly. Adam sat in front of him.

"what's wrong?" "You're going" "yes, you said that" "please come back" He kept saying it on loop, to Adam, until his voice cracked and his throat hurt.

Was it possible to already miss the person who was currently sitting in front of you?

"don't be stupid Lynch. Of course I'm coming back" "I didn't meant for Thanksgiving" "my answer will not change"

Adam ran his fingers over his eyebrows, and kissed him. He memorised every second of it. Of Adam's not so chapped fingers on his jaw, his chapped and warm lips, his breath tingling on Ronan's kiss.

"tamquam" "alter idem"

When he dreamt that night, he dreamt of Adam and Cabeswater and how just like that, Adam had given his eyes and hands to the magical forest.

When he woke up, there was a small snowglobe in his hands, a little Cabeswater sitting inside it and a charcoal BMW nestled between. He sneaked it into one of Adam's bags.

The next morning, Ronan watched Adam drive off, in the shitty Hondayota until he disappeared. Opal was sobbing in his leg and he picked her up and she hid her face in the crook of his neck.

He shut the door behind him and carried Opal upstairs and put her down on Declan's bed as she had slept off due to crying. He found a post-it stuck beside the bed, on the wall.

"tell her I miss her" was written in Adam's handwriting.

There was the ache. The ache called love.

He plucked the note off and put in his jeans' pocket and left. He had to make lunch now. He found more sticky notes in the kitchen.

"pink lid is the salt, green is the sugar"

"don't mix the spoons and the forks"

"don't overcook your pasta"

"eat on time, send me pictures"

"I'll miss your pancakes"

"I'll miss how you tasted of blueberries and mint toothpaste"

"I'll miss you seeing in your cute little apron"

He plucked each and every one of them, fondly muttering curses to himself as he carefully folded them and tucked them into his pocket. He called Adam.

"thanks for the notes, mom" "sorry if I don't want a salty coffee" "that happened twice, asshole" "thank god third time wasn't a charm" "I hate you" "I miss you" "me too"

He rambled on about random things as Adam heard and supplied his responses or just chuckled in response. He hung up because he didn't want to distract him any longer.

He made pasta for lunch and didn't overcook it. He sent a picture to Adam. Even if he hated to use the phone, he was glad he had one so he could send Adam texts and photos.

He ate sitting alone on the dinner table, some song playing on his phone. He missed Adam, there was no doubt about it.

He just didn't know he missed Adam this much.

How empty suddenly the house felt, how it felt like he was an intruder again, like how he used to sneak in. He kept finding Adam's notes everywhere.

He found one stuck to the lamp beside the couch as he was flipping through some book Adam had found interesting.

"don't fall asleep on the couch"

He rolled his eyes. Oh how well his boyfriend knew him. The book surprisingly was interesting. It was some historical book that Gansey had probably given to Adam.

It talked about the history of food and farming and crops and things. Adam had been reading it for him, he supposed. He kept finding more notes as he kept reading.

"My farmer boyfriend, I knew you'd read it"

"who's a nerd now, Lynch?"

"we should go wine making in France one day"

"you'd be a good farmer, a sexy farmer"

"will my classmates believe I'm dating a farmer"

"I'm so glad to have you"

Ronan didn't tear up, nope. He didn't find his eyes glassy and his lip trembling. Adam called him a few hours later.

"hey Lynch. I reached" "you and your fucking books Parrish" "did you like it?" "It was interesting. Anyway, how's Cambridge?" "Too fancy" "you'll survive, Harvard boy" "I have to survive so I can live with you"

Ronan was silent for a whole sixty seconds before he found his bearings again. He almost picked up the keys and started driving to Cambridge.

"yeah" "are you okay? Where's Opal and chainsaw?" "Opal cried herself to sleep and Chainsaw disappeared in the morning, still flying outside" "mhmmm. I- I miss you. Too much. I didn't think I'd miss you and Opal and home this much but I do and it sucks already" "me too Parrish. It just feels so empty here" "skype me twice a day okay? Please" "of course Parrish, I need to your face everyday in case I forget how pretty you are" "shut up"

There was beauty and power in making Adam Parrish smile and better, blush. Ronan was powerful enough.

Adam told him about Cambridge and his dorm room and complained about how fancy it was and grumbled about money and finding jobs.

"I swear to god Parrish, if I find out you're working unnecessarily again I will come to Cambridge and kidnap you and lock you here in our bedroom forever" "sure you will" "want to try me?" "NO"

Ronan laughed. Adam did too. He felt something settle in his chest. They stayed silent on the call, not talking as Ronan heard Adam's breathing through the phone.

"I'll skype you tonight?" "Yeah, pretty sure the brat will want to see you" "you don't?" "Don't be stupid"

Adam laughed before hanging up. Ronan found more post-its in his bedroom. They were literally everywhere. Everywhere.

"don't bring out a dead body" on Adam's side of the bed

"Thanks for the hand lotion, it smells like home" on the nightstand beside an empty bottle of hand lotion. Ronan dreamed him one that lasted probably forever.

"call me if you wake up at night, I mean it" on the headboard

"here's one of mine since I stole one of yours" on one of Adam's old hoodie on the bed.

"the first time I knew that for sure that I want this" on the window, stuck to the same toy.

"I wish I could steal more of your clothes" on the wardrobe door.

"shopping spree next time I'm home?" Inside the wardrobe.

"don't listen on high volume, not good for your ears" on his headphones.

"a little something from me" on a box. There was a knotted leather band inside, intricate and just like how Ronan liked. He immediately put it on on his wrist.

He found a few stuck together on the backside of the door.

"alter idem."

"I want this, for as long as you'll have me"

"I want this too much"

"I miss you, I'll miss you till I come back home"

"I'm a sap for you, Lynch"

"You're it for me"

"thanks for the straight teeth, again"

"come find me in your dreams, I'll find you in mine"

"don't do stupid shit"

"I love you, so much it hurts"

[littleturtle95]

congrats on the milestone!! pynch + 📚 + 1 if you want?

I know I'm super late, but I hope it will be fine anyway n.n sorry! I've had kind of a writer's block in english, hope you'll like it! 🙈

“This was a mistake,” Adam sighed.

“Was it that bad?” Ronan asked, mindlessly playing with Adam’s shirt. He was sitting on a desk just in front of him, his legs swinging.

Snogging with his ex in the empty bio lab was definitely not something that Adam was considering for his day when he first arrived at school.

“Could you just take me seriously for once?”

Ronan looked up from his hands and fixed his eyes on him. “Do you feel like it was a mistake?”

The honest question surprised him so much he almost gave in. Since their breakup, a few months earlier, he had almost forgotten that Ronan could be dead serious when he wanted.

“Of course it was. I was supposed to study today, and you once again had to ruin my plans with your egomaniac, narcissistic, egocentric-”

“Is that the only reason why it was a mistake? Because you had to study?”

Adam didn't want to answer. He didn't want to be there in the first place, he didn't want Ronan to be there as well, he just wanted to be left alone.

For one moment, he felt like he was going to scream. To scream to him that yes, the fact he had to study was exactly the problem, it always had been. The fact that they were too different, had different paths in front of them was the problem, the fact that Adam had big dreams in mind, he had to find his place in the world, he didn't really have time for this, he didn't have the time Ronan needed and deserved from him or anyone.

But he didn't.

He was tired of screaming, he was tired of breaking everything up in an outburst of anger like a child, he was tired of being mad and miserable and making everyone bad and miserable down with him.

“Do you really want me to explain to you why kissing in the lab today was a bad idea?”

“I do,” Ronan answered, calmer than he'd ever seen him.

He had always been so loud, his calmness scared Adam to the core.

“Making out with you in the lab today was a mistake because we're not together anymore. And because I don't want to give you the impression that I changed my mind on that.”

“Well, fuck Parrish,” said Ronan, a flash of surprise and hurt passing through his eyes. “That was a low blow. Just murder me and kick my dead body next time.”

“See what I mean? You're a child. We can't talk seriously for two seconds that you-”

“Why did you do it? If it was a mistake, I mean. Why did you do it?”

Adam blinked a few times, taken aback by the question.

“Why did you do it?”

“Who's the child now? I asked first.”

“Okay, fair. I did it because… because…” because not being with you has been like drowning. I need air or I feel like I'm going to die, all the time. “Because I don't like not being with you.”

Ronan's mouth curled up in a half smile. He took Adam's hand and started playing with it, examining it carefully. “Nec sine te ne tecum vivere possum,” he said.

“I can't live without you nor with you,” Adam translated immediately. “Ovid.”

“Sometimes, even I pay attention, huh?”

“I'm so sorry we ended up like this.”

“If you were really sorry you would just come back now, wouldn't you?”

“It's not that easy.”

“But it is.”

The bell rang and Adam cursed. “Fuck, I have to-”

“Go to class,” Ronan said, mimicking his voice. “Call me if you want another make out session.”

“This,” said Adam, trying to be serious, “won't ever happen again.”

“You always say that,” he said, jumping off the desk. “Good luck for your exam.”

It was true, he always said that. And yet, this had been the third time he had found himself with his lips on his ex's after the breakup.

Ronan Lynch, his most addictive drug. More than scratching his hands when he was stressed, more than overworking himself. His heroine, his personal version of hell.

“Will you go to class?”

“I don't think so. I have a name, you know. Reputation is everything.”

And that was why it couldn't work.

“Goodbye, Ronan.”

“Whatever,” he said, finally walking away. “See you.”

And Adam stood there, drowning again, with this cold feeling of emptiness in his stomach.

20 fics celebrations – that's actually 50

[stareaten]

pynch.

~5k words.

read on ao3 instead

Adam collects things. He clings to them; he hoards them.

You wouldn’t notice it at first, not with how logical and calculating he is, certainly not within the small space of Adam’s tiny apartment above St. Agnes filled with the mismatched, makeshift furniture, and surely not in the cluttered mess of the mismatched, makeshift desk where Adam is sitting, hunched over, and scribbling some shit about some fucking thing in one of his notebooks.

But because Ronan is Ronan, he starts catching up. He is lying sprawled on his back on Adam’s uncomfortable mattress, bored out of his mind. He left his headphones back at Monmouth and can’t be assed to go back to pick them up. Adam shows no intention on paying him any attention – at least not until he’s finished with whatever the fuck he’s working on – so Ronan decides to bother him just a bit. (It’s his philosophy notes he’s working on, Ronan knows it, because Ronan clings to everything Adam tells him. That’s why he knows it isn’t so important, because Adam knows it but still insists on being a giant, pain-in-the-ass nerd.)

Ronan rolls back onto his stomach and scoots closer to Adam’s desk, peering over his arm to try to understand Adam’s chicken scratch. He grabs one of the pens lying around and goes to write something – something stupid or sweet or rude or, considering he’s Ronan, all three at once – in the margin of the open notebook. He starts to write but the pen doesn’t work so he picks up another one. This time he manages to write one big letter before it runs out of ink. He scowls at the pen in an attempt to intimidate it into working, and then shakes it vigorously. When it still refuses to work, because apparently pens can feel no terror, he chucks it away and searches for another one. This one manages two more letters before dying out. Ronan frowns again, shakes it – again – and tries to press it more firmly into the paper before Adam’s hand comes up to grab at his wrist.

“Stop it,” Adam says without looking up from finishing his page, “you’re gonna tear the paper.”

“I wouldn’t have to tear your paper if you had a damn pen that works,” Ronan replies.

Adam says nothing, just flips the page and starts writing on the left side of the notebook, effectively stopping Ronan’s attempts at delinquency.

Ronan huffs. And picks up another pen. He manages to write a big capital A on the corner of the page before Adam elbows him in the face. Ronan rubs at his chin. “I was just testing to see if this one works.”

Adam hums. “They all work.”

“Like shit they do.”

“They all work in a pinch.”

“This is a pinch. And they don’t fucking work.”

“I would hardly call your attempts at desecrating my notes ‘a pinch’,” Adam says, nose still buried in said notes.

“It’s not desecrating if I make them more fun,” Ronan says.

Adam sighs. “Go be bored somewhere else.”

Ronan scowls, but lies back on the bed. He manages some good 10 minutes before picking up a crumbled up receipt from the floor and drawing more inappropriate things before the pen dies out.

***

Adam picks up empty yogurt cups Sargent leaves lying around the Barns and washes them out in the sink. He dries them with a kitchen towel, stacks them up and puts them in the cupboard above the microwave, where neither of them will actually be bothered to reach them.

“You can’t recycle them,” he says when Ronan tries to dump them in the trash. “Doesn’t mean you can’t use them again.”

“What for?” Ronan groans. “There are plenty of cups here. Plastic cups and glasses and cups that sing and cups that curse at you and whatever kind of cups your ass desires. Fuck, Parrish, I’ll dream you up another cup, just for you, which recites pluperfect of esse whenever you drink your gross fucking no sugar coffee out of it.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “We can use them for seedlings.”

“Right,” Ronan mutters. “Fucking seedlings.” But he sees Adam putting the yogurt cups up in the cabinet anyway.

***

Ronan visits Adam at college one weekend when Adam isn’t too busy studying and Declan is too busy to chew Ronan’s ass over one thing or another.

Adam wraps his arms around Ronan’s shoulders and releases a deep sigh.

“Fuck, Parrish,” Ronan says, rubbing his hand up and down Adam’s ribs. “You know freshman fifteen means you gain those pounds, not lose them, right?”

Adam huffs into his neck. “Guess you better learn how to cook then.”

Ronan groans and for a moment considers how difficult it would be to dream up a stove that makes any meal on its own. He would probably still end up eating pizzas anyway.

Adam’s dorm room is not big and Ronan knows which side of it is his as soon as he enters. There is a corkboard above his desk and Ronan leans closer to inspect everything that is pinned there while Adam changes out of his clothes.

There are receipts from the store and scrawled reminders for papers and homework and exams. There is a single black feather and a printed out picture of Gansey, Blue and Cheng standing in front of- some fucking monument Ronan didn’t care enough to remember the name of, Cheng’s ugly mug uncomfortably close to the camera. Gansey sent it to Ronan’s phone some time ago, but giving that Ronan only started actually checking his phone once Adam left for Harvard, it sat in the messages until Adam picked it up and grinned at it so hard that, one afternoon later, Ronan cursed and kicked and glared his old printer back to life in order to print it out. There is also a postcard Sargent sent him from Bumfuck, Nowhere just recently - Ronan can’t see the message on the back, but he knows who it’s from because he has a matching one sitting next to his computer, collecting dust so he can pretend it didn’t make his insides twist when he found it in the mail. (His personalized message only read ‘miss you, asshole – blue’ and he grinned before thinking better of it.)

And then there are… other pieces of trash. A bubblegum wrap and what appears to be a torn piece of post-it and one of those paper bracelets you get on those obnoxious student parties. There is a red solo cup right underneath it with two fugly red and white pens with Harvard logo sticking out of it. Ronan silently wonders if they even fucking work. There’s also a bunch of pamphlets stacked neatly on the edge of the desk and Ronan flips mindlessly through them. Fuck, he thinks, I’m in love with a hoarder.

He is quickly distracted from that thought by the aforementioned hoarder’s arms sliding around his middle. Adam kisses the back of his neck and then the soft spot under his ear, so Ronan has no choice but to turn around and kiss him senseless.

“Hi,” Adam breathes against his lips once they part, soft and quiet. His thumb gently massages the back of Ronan’s skull, while fingers of his other hand come up to trace Ronan’s cheekbone.

“Hi,” Ronan says, soft and quiet, because he loves Adam, loves him when he gets all pushy and hungry, loves him even more so when he gets soft and gentle and private and just for Ronan to see.

“I missed you,” Adam says and Ronan gets an excellent idea about moving Adam’s fingers closer to his lips but then there is a knock on the door and Adam’s hands fall away.

To his credit though, they don’t go very far. Adam takes a step back, but stays well within Ronan’s personal space, one of his beautiful hands resting on the inside of Ronan’s elbow. Ronan still scowls at the person knocking even before they enter the room.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Adam’s roommate says poking his head inside. “I just forgot to grab my notes.”

“No problem,” Adam replies, smiling politely. Ronan elects to stay silent this time.

The roommate leaves the door open as he moves to his side of the room, rummaging through his stuff, and Ronan almost groans when he sees another person standing in the doorway.

“Hey Adam,” the other boy says, nodding. “We’ll get out of your hair right away.”

Adam waves his arm dismissively. “It’s alright, really.”

Ronan would beg to fucking differ.

“Adam?” the roommate says and makes an apologetic face. “You wouldn’t happen to have some notes from the last Doyle’s class, would you?”

“From Wednesday morning class?” Adam frowns and lets go of Ronan’s arm to search through his own pile of notebooks. Ronan grits his teeth.

He doesn’t care to hear the rest of that conversation and instead turns to scowl at the boy at the doorway when he feels his eyes on the back of his neck. “What?” Ronan presses out.

The boy seems to remember himself as he stands up a bit straighter. “Sorry, just. You’re Adam’s boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Ronan say, frowning deeper.

“You’re the farmer?”

“Yes,” Ronan repeats and stuffs his fists into his pockets.

“Huh,” the guy says and leans on the doorway again. “Sorry, you’re just. Not what I expected. But that explains the jacket.”

“The jacket?” Ronan wonders how deeply he will have to twist his face in order to get this guy to leave.

“What do you grow?” the boy asks instead of explaining himself, in an attempt to be polite or rude or nosey or fucking annoying, see if Ronan cares which one. “On your farm?”

Ronan shrugs, feeling out of his depth and hating it. “Potatoes.”

“Potatoes?” the boy repeats, frowning like he’s never heard the word before.

“He’s Irish,” Adam suddenly says, grabbing at Ronan’s elbow. He looks at Ronan and there it is again, that private smile of his. Ronan has no choice but to deflate a little. “He thinks it’s funny.”

The guy at the door breathes out a short, fake laugh and Ronan hates him. But the roommate is already pushing him out and saying to Adam over his shoulder: “Thank you so much, Adam, for the notes, and sorry for bothering you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiles and then they're gone.

Ronan still scowls at the door.

“Sorry about that,” Adam says and he is already putting his hands back where they belong, kissing just under Ronan’s jaw. Understandably, Ronan loses the ability to think for quite a while.

It’s only when he is finally, finally removing his shirt over his head that he remembers to ask: “The jacket?”

“Huh?” Adam says intelligently, his sole focus on the button of Ronan’s jeans.

“The other guy. He mentioned your jacket.”

“Huh?” Adam repeats, but now he raises his head to look at Ronan. “Oh!” he says as his eyes light up with understanding. “I took your jacket. The old leather one.” He shrugs. “You were going to throw it away, didn’t think you’d care. Some of the guys were teasing me, said it didn’t fit my style – whatever they think my style is supposed to be – I told them I took it from you.”

“The one with the burnt sleeve?” Ronan frowns again. “Parrish, if you needed a new jacket…”

“I didn’t need it, okay?” Adam says and rolls his eyes. “It’s just a nice jacket and you didn’t want it anyway. Can we now stop talking about clothes and get back to removing them?” To prove his point, Adam lifts the edge of his own shirt and pulls it off, and every other thought Ronan might have had flies right away with it.

***

Opal runs across the pasture straight into Adam’s arms as soon as she hears his car coming around the corner. Ronan berates her for it (“Let him catch a breath, for fuck’s sake.”) if only because he didn’t get to do it first.

But Adam just smiles and lets Opal cling to him, crouches down to be at the same eye level. She pulls out a piece of colorful candy wrapper, half-eaten and sticky with spit and fuck knows what else, and holds it out for Adam to take. Ronan watches, amused, as Adam tries not to make a disgusted face and promptly fails at it.

“Thank you, Opal,” he still says, taking it from her. Opal beams at him.

And then Adam finally straightens up and turns around so that Ronan can wrap himself around him and kiss his temples.

“I have a trunk full of stuff to take upstairs,” Adam says in lieu of hello.

“You also have two perfectly working legs and arms to match, so I don’t know how that has anything to do with me,” Ronan replies into his hair.

Adam huffs a laugh. “Asshole.” He pinches Ronan’s side and Ronan pushes him away, feigning being hurt, before turning around and heading straight for the trunk of his shit car.

It’s much, much later that Adam drags him to the laundry room. Well. He doesn’t exactly drag him there. It’s more that Adam hoists up a bag full of dirty clothes and heads towards the laundry room and Ronan wordlessly follows him there, picking up a new box of washing powder from the pantry.

Adam starts talking about the last oral exam he had and it’s a testament to how much Ronan missed him that he doesn’t even make a crude joke about it, just leans against the washing machine and watches Adam empty the pockets of his pants, clinging to his every word. And for someone who is constantly giving Ronan shit about the state of his car, Adam sure does carry a lot of trash in his pockets.

He pulls out a piece of candy wrapper Ronan at first doesn’t even recognize as the one Opal gave him – its colors shifted now that it dried in Adam’s pocket – and he doesn’t even pause his story before straightening it and putting it in the back pocket of the jeans he is currently wearing. Ronan frowns, but stays silent.

***

It was Adam’s idea to clean out the closets in the first place. Ronan, understandably, groaned and rolled his eyes and kicked the floor and used very colorful language to express his disdain. He even promised to dream up a new closet, just for Adam and his bunch of shit, really, Parrish, you won’t even have to look at Ronan’s clothes ever again, he’ll make it so that it chews and spits out Ronan’s tank tops even if he puts them there by mistake, just please don’t make him spend another summer day holed up inside.

But Adam, ever the pragmatic, just shakes his head. “Where would you even put a new dresser? The room’s cluttered enough.”

Ronan considers giving him a very imaginative answer to that particular question, but realizes that he is still going to end up cleaning the closets anyway, only this way he won’t have to deal with both of them pissed off. Not that either of them ends up happy though. It’s an incredibly uninteresting and tiring chore, especially given the fact that ninety-nine percent of Ronan’s clothes is black – the remaining one percent being dark gray or somewhat lighter gray or, very rarely, deep dark blue – and it’s hard to recognize which of his tees are the ones good to keep and which ones are too tight or too ripped even for him to wear. After an hour or so he just ends up chucking them on two separate piles randomly.

He stays out of Adam’s stuff for quite a while, mostly because Adam has significantly less stuff than Ronan (not that anyone would guess it, given their respective fashion choices), but Ronan’s fucking boyfriend is as pedantic about this as he is about anything else. Adam holds up every item, squints at it for a second or two, and if he decides to keep it he folds it carefully on one of the piles he has around the room.

“Go find a box,” Adam says after Ronan sighs for the fifth time in a minute, idly pushing Adam’s stuff around.

Ronan frowns. “What for?”

Adam doesn’t look up from his pile of clothes. “So we can pack up some of the clothes you just tossed away and I can drive it to Goodwill on my way to Boyd’s.”

Ronan considers it for a moment and nods. Okay, maybe Adam has a point, so what. Doesn’t mean he won’t be difficult about it, since he’s still bored as hell. “What boxes?”

“In the small barn, bring the sturdy ones,” Adam replies, folding another t-shirt carefully.

Ronan stomps to the small barn, kicks some stuff around, comes back empty handed. “There isn’t one.”

Adam frowns. “There has to be at least a few. I left them there months ago.”

“Oh, those,” Ronan says, sarcastically, but is immediately hit with a flashback of one very boring afternoon when he and Opal decided to set shit on fire after Adam let him know he won’t be able to come that weekend after all, and Declan called to tell him he’s coming down for some shit or another and he and Ronan should get lunch. “I got rid of those,” he says, because he doesn’t lie but also isn’t too keen on explaining Adam what exactly happened to them.

Adam closes his eyes and sighs. “Well, there’s gotta be at least one box around here somewhere.”

Ronan shrugs. “I’ll check the long barn.”

He manages to find two cardboard boxes, similar enough in sizes. He brings them all the way to the porch before thinking better of it and bringing them back so he can dust them off first. When he finally hauls them upstairs, he finds Adam frowning at a pair of jeans.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” he drawls as he watches Ronan drop the boxes at his feet, “and assume you know what kinda clothes are good for donation.”

“Fuck you,” Ronan says, which roughly translates to I’ll go through all my shit again and throw the good ones in the shittier looking box, and then he gets to it with just as much enthusiasm as before. Adam says nothing, but Ronan sees one corner of his mouth lifting into a very rude smile.

It must have been hours, days, weeks, fucking years later that they finally manage to sort the old but wearable clothes into the donation boxes (it’s mostly stuff Ronan doesn’t want to wear and Adam doesn’t want to steal from him, and then some stuff of Adam’s that do not fit him right anymore) and the unwearable clothes into trash bags. It’s certainly been long enough that Adam decides they deserve a break.

“Come on,” he says, offering his hand to Ronan who’s sitting on the floor, his legs splayed out. “There’s some ice cream in the freezer.”

Ronan squints up at him, suspicious. “Since when?”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Since the other day when I came from Boyd’s while you were busy chasing goats away from the long barn.” He wiggles his fingers a little. “Unless you want to keep cleaning.”

“You kept ice cream from me for three days?” Ronan huffs, but still takes his hand and lets Adam pull him up.

“It’s not hiding it if you never think to check the freezer,” Adam replies, because he has to be a smartass about everything. Ronan forgives him as soon as the ice cream is out and it’s the kind that Ronan likes the best but rarely when buys because Adam prefers a different one.

Ronan fills two mugs – cause they have a shit ton of those, but no clean bowls apparently – with the ice cream and brings them out to the porch where Adam is already sitting on the stairs facing the pasture. He hands him his mug and Adam leans up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

They sit in silence broken only by soft clicking of spoons against ceramic and crickets singing in the grass. The sun is setting behind the woods surrounding the Barns, coloring the sky red and pink and orange. Adam presses his leg against Ronan’s wordlessly and Ronan leans into him until their shoulders brush. Sometimes Ronan thinks he could stay like this forever, just feeling Adam’s body calm and relaxed against his, sharing the quiet between them without a care in the world. He wishes he could somehow freeze the moment and tuck it into his back pocket to look at it later, when Adam’s away and his side of the bed is cold.

“You know we still have to put the clothes away, right?” Adam asks nudging his knee with his own.

And sometimes, Ronan just wants to fucking kill him.

Instead of dignifying that with a response, he leans forward and licks Adam’s cheek.

“Eww,” Adam says, pushing at him playfully. “Real mature.”

“You had some ice cream on your face,” Ronan replies. “Couldn’t let it go to waste.”

“Gross,” Adam says, standing up and rubbing his hand against Ronan’s scalp.

Ronan follows him inside begrudgingly.

Once the boxes are out of the way, putting away the clothes is going much faster than sorting it out, albeit it’s not any less boring – for one part because Ronan doesn’t care where exactly in the closet his clothes end up and Adam is too busy organizing his own to berate him for just bunching up a handful of tank tops and stuffing them on the second highest shelf.

Once done, Ronan looks around the room to make sure nothing is left lying around when he spots one of Adam’s tees lying on the bed. He picks it up and sees that it’s threadbare, with a hole in the front and pieces of thread hanging from the sleeves.

“Hey, Marie Kondo,” Ronan calls, “you forgot this one.”

“The fact that you know who she is takes a significant part out of the insult,” Adam says, returning back to the room.

“Everyone knows who she is.” Ronan glares for good measure, even though he knows Adam is immune to it, and balls the tee in his hand, already reaching for a trash bag with his other, before Adam stops him.

“No, wait.” He grabs at the hand holding the tee. “I’m keeping that one.”

Ronan frowns. “It’s shit.”

“So is a good portion of your wardrobe,” Adam replies. “Give me.”

“My shirts at least don’t fucking look like moths had a dinner party,” Ronan says. “I’m throwing this out.”

“It’s my t-shirt,” Adam says, frowning deeply. “You can’t throw it away.”

“Watch me,” Ronan says and raises his hand higher in an attempt to get out of Adam’s reach.

Adam doesn’t attempt to reach anymore, though. He just crosses his arms over his chest and now Ronan knows he’s really upset. “Why are you being such a dick about it?”

Ronan’s frown deepens. “You were giving me shit about tidying up all day and now you’re giving me shit about throwing away an old t-shirt?”

Adam’s jaw clenches. “Sorry we can’t all afford to have twenty Tom Fords in our closets, Lynch.”

“You have a wardrobe full of shit, Parrish. This one’s basically see-through.” Ronan raises the tee in front of his face to prove his point.

Adam snatches it away. “It’s mine,” he says and turns back to the closet.

Ronan watches him as he folds the old t-shirt, his back tense and shoulders up to his ears. “Whatever, Parrish,” he says and takes the last trash bag outside.

***

Ronan can’t sleep. Which is nothing new, to be perfectly honest. He kicks the covers to the foot of the bed and gets up to piss. On his way back he pulls his t-shirt off and throws it in some corner of the room or the other. He glances at Adam’s back before climbing back to bed next to him.

There is no way Adam is asleep while it’s hot as balls, not while the sheets keep sticking to their skin every time they move, not while his body is wound so tight he would probably jump out of bed and straight through the window if Ronan touched him.

Fine, Ronan thinks. If Adam intends to stay pissed at him for no fucking reason whatsoever, who is Ronan to stop him. Adam always does what he wants, when he wants, anyway. Leaves when he wants, can leave Ronan behind if he wants, leaves Ronan feeling like shit over something he doesn’t even know he’s done wrong.

Ronan punches his pillow into, truthfully, no more comfortable lump than before and turns to lie on his back. He can hear the owl hooting outside. There is no fucking wind. Ronan rubs the heel of his hand against his right eye, but doesn’t curse out loud.

“It’s what I was wearing,” Adam says suddenly, his voice carefully neutral, “back then.”

Ronan considers this for a moment. “What?”

Adam stays silent for a moment before curling into himself a bit more. “Nothin’,” he mutters. “Forget it.”

Ronan frowns, thinks back to the fucking t-shirt now lying somewhere in the closet. “You were wearing it when?”

He hears Adam exhale slowly. “When you first kissed me.”

Oh, Ronan thinks. He lets the words sink in, but he can’t find anything good to say. “That’s why you didn’t want to throw it away?” It comes out more as a question than an explanation.

“Yeah.” Adam swallows. “No.”

Ronan stays silent, at a loss as to what to do. He wants to reach for Adam, pull him close and kiss away whatever it is troubling his mind. He wants to hold his hand and feel at ease. But he knows Adam would only just pull away now. So he waits.

Adam takes a breath before slowly rolling over onto his back and staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t have much growing up,” he says, and, no shit, Ronan still remembers the meager backpack and a cereal box Adam carried out of that fucking trailer years ago, remembers carrying the duffel bag and thinking ‘this is Adam’s whole life here’, remembers being careful not to bang it against anything.

“I had to take care of things if I wanted to have them for longer,” Adam continues, “cause once they were gone, they were gone. And even if something breaks, you keep it, because you can always reuse it in a pinch. Like the pens.” He swallows. “I can’t write an essay with an empty pen, but sometimes I can write down an important phone number or a reminder. A broken thing is still better than no thing at all, right?”

Ronan sneaks a look at Adam and finds that his eyes are firmly closed even as he continues.

“And if you gotta spend money, you want evidence of what you spent it on, so it doesn’t just disappear one day without you noticing." He pauses. "You want to make sure that the thing was real, y’know.”

And oh. Oh, Ronan thinks, there it is. “Adam,” he whispers gently and slides his hand across the sheets to find Adam’s. Because Ronan would know a thing or two about wanting to stick to something so badly, about being so scared of losing the one good thing he has, about being terrified it wasn’t even real to begin with.

Adam rolls his head from side to side, rubbing at his forehead with his other hand, but he lets Ronan entwine their fingers. “I know it’s stupid,” he says.

“Kinda is,” Ronan says. Tries for humor: “Glad to know that I’m not the only stupid one in this relationship.” Fails.

Adam rolls his head again, doesn’t open his eyes.

Ronan shifts until he’s lying on his side. “Hey,” he says quietly and leans forward to kiss Adam’s shoulder. “You’re not planning on getting rid of me, are you?”

“No,” Adam answers and finally blinks his eyes open. “Of course not.” He sighs and turns to face Ronan. “It’s just-,” he stops himself, swallows, tries again. “I’m happy. I’m so impossibly happy, Ronan, and one part of me keeps waiting for everything to be taken away from me.” He kicks the cover off with his legs. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Ronan wants to say something. He wants to say you’ll always have me, and if it’s up to me, you’ll never lack anything ever in your entire life, and I don’t want you to worry ever again, and I want you to have everything, and I love you so much it hurts sometimes. But Adam is smart, the smartest person Ronan knows. Adam knows all this already. Some scars just take longer to heal. Some scars just never completely heal. Ronan would know a thing or two about that, too.

So Ronan just scoots closer, heat be damned, and lets Adam hide his face into his neck.

***

Ronan dreams up a pen that never runs out of ink and puts it in Adam’s messenger bag while he’s working at Boyd’s. He debates dreaming up a pencil case when he realizes Adam doesn’t have one, then debates buying one from Amazon like any other asshole would, but then decides that Adam wouldn’t let him get away with that. He got better at accepting gifts from Ronan, though. It’s more that Ronan would be compelled to buy something ugly or funny or ridiculous – like that disgusting one shaped like a dead fish – and Adam would refuse to take it to classroom.

Adam washes out yogurt cups and ice cream containers, and Ronan dries them with a kitchen towel before turning around and using it to smack Adam’s ass with it. Adam cusses him out and chases him around. They both somehow end up in a laughing heap on the floor.

One night, Adam takes a cardboard box out of the closet and sits it on the bed before beckoning Ronan over. He takes out pieces of papers and shit and tells Ronan stories for every single one. Ronan recognizes a few of the items instantly: scraps of candy wrappers and dry leaves from Opal, a flower Ronan took out of his dreams while he was still building Lindenmere, one half of a watch band with teeth marks on it, another postcard from Blue.

Then there is a piece of wrap from a chewing gum Adam’s college friend gave him on his first night there. There is a movie ticket from a screening of some boring ass movie they had to see for one of their classes, when Adam and his roommate were the only ones in the theater and they ended up laughing so hard they were sick. There is a safety pin one of Adam’s classmates gave him to temporarily fix a shirt when he accidentally tore it right before his big presentation in the class.

Ronan knows every one of these stories already, Adam telling him everything over the phone, but he still soaks in every single word Adam says. He never realized before that Adam kept mementos. He realizes that, yes, these little scraps make the stories a tiny bit more real.

There is also an old, beaten to shit notebook which Ronan recognizes as Adam’s old Latin notebook and, sure enough, when Adam flips the pages there are profanities written in Ronan’s handwriting on the margins of the pages.

Next time he visits Adam, he takes him out for lunch, and Ronan pockets the receipt before leaving the restaurant. Back in Adam’s room, he scribbles something on the back of it – having found a working pen on the first try – and stuffs it in Adam’s pocket while hugging him goodbye.

(Ronan also happens to leave his hoodie under Adam’s pillow. Adam doesn’t ask, Ronan doesn’t lie.)

Adam comes home for the winter break hauling more dirty clothes and a bookshop worth of notebooks. He spots Ronan’s addition to the room right away, but waits until he deposits the bags so he can put his hands on his hips judgmentally. “This is new,” he says.

Ronan shrugs. He watches wordlessly as Adam crosses the room to carefully slide his hand across the big wooden chest. Its honey color is still shining faintly, and its hinges are golden. (It’s the third one he’s made, but Adam doesn’t have to know that. The first two were so goddamn awful that all the evidence of them was quickly destroyed, this time no thanks to Opal.)

“And you didn’t think we have room for another dresser,” Ronan says, just to be a smartass.

Adam doesn’t fall for it this time. “It’s beautiful, Ronan.”

Ronan crosses the room to stand closer to him. “Figured you’d need something sturdier.”

“Hmm?” Adam hums, still admiring the chest.

“You know,” Ronan says, and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Your box is good and all, but it’s cardboard. It won't last much longer, not if you keep adding shit to it, and you’ll run out of space. And I know Opal keeps giving you fucking rocks, whatever, it’s your fucking fault for enabling her, but she-,”

Adam cuts him off by grabbing his face with both of his hands and kissing him, deeply and roughly. “Thank you,” he breathes against Ronan’s lips before diving in for another kiss.

***

Ronan considers the possibility that his boyfriend has some weird ass tidying up kink (and then promptly considers the possibilities of using that to his advantage) because Adam’s barely been home for three days before Ronan finds him decluttering their room. But apparently it’s just, no, Lynch, we’re already hauling stuff out so we can repaint the room so it’s only logical to go through the shit we don’t need anymore. Maybe it’s pragmatism kink. Or competency kink. (Fuck, does Ronan have competency kink?)

Ronan watches as Adam dumps a handful of pens into a trash can, follows those with candy wraps and a broken pieces of plastic from fuck knows what. Ronan joins him by throwing out three empty glue sticks, a pair of broken scissors, more fucking yogurt cups (which Ronan won’t ever admit drinking out of because he couldn’t be assed to wash out any of three hundred glasses lying around the sink). He gets bored quickly enough, and he doesn’t want to throw out anything Adam might want to keep, so he settles on hauling furniture out of the room. Adam teases him about showing off, but Ronan doesn’t miss the way Adam checks him out, his eyes catching on Ronan’s exposed arms, so fuck you, Parrish, I win.

“Hey, what’s this?” Ronan says picking up a ball-up piece of fabric lying on top of a trash can, before he recognizes it.

Adam comes to stand next to him. “You were right,” he says, and some other time Ronan might have been smug about those words coming from him. “It’s shit. And I don’t need it anymore.”

Ronan looks at the t-shirt in his hands, pokes a finger through the hole on its front. “No, you don’t need it.”

“I can kiss you whenever I want now,” Adam reasons, and leans forward to kiss Ronan’s shoulder to prove his point.

Ronan turns his head to press a kiss to Adam’s hair. “Maybe you could keep this one, though,” he says, too nonchalant to be anything but. “It kinda grew on me.”

Adam smiles up at him.

Yeah, Ronan thinks, some things are worth clinging onto.  

[100storiesin2020]

Chapter 2: The Raven Boys

Come find me on AO3!

***

Fortunately for Wymack, the boys were, in fact, waiting by the front door. Unfortunately, Henry Cheng had joined them.

Henry noticed the coach’s approach and his jaw fell open. “Is that Coach Wymack?” he asked incredulously. “As in, Coach David Wymack of the Palmetto Foxes? Who learned Exy under Kaleigh Day? The coach of the team with the most incredible turnaround in NCAA Exy history?” He rocked on his heels, looking like he was either going to faint or jump through the roof in excitement.

Gansey put a hand on Henry's shoulder. "Easy there, man. Can we help you, Coach?" He asked in his most presidential voice.

Wymack's hackles rose a bit. That voice reeked of money and power, of authority and privilege, and went against everything the Foxes were. He could tell that it was a mask, and there was something decidedly off about this boy, but even so this boy in front of him was not the kind of kid he would choose to be a Fox. But, he was out of options now, and was going to have to make the best of it. He sighed. This was not going to be fun for him. "Yes, actually. I'd like to talk to the three of you, if you have a minute." He gave Henry a pointed look.

Henry had many faults, but an inability to take hints was not on the list. "I'll meet you guys at Ninos, then." Only Henry could be honestly described as waltzing away, but he did so whistling.

Wymack sighed just a tiny bit in relief before turning back to the three players. He appraised them for a minute, trying to figure out the best approach with them. 

The three of them painted an interesting picture together. Richard Campell Gansey the Third stood tall and polished, the picture-perfect product of his upbringing, presidential and almost imposing despite his age. Ronan Lynch was full of angles and edges, his strength and ferocity outlined in black. Adam Parrish was muted, somehow, as if half of him was far away or he was half asleep. Half asleep, Wymack decided, judging by the bags under his eyes.

He could feel a very strange aura surrounding the three of them. It whispered of forests, of magic, of beauty in creation and a threat of destruction. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, and he couldn’t determine which of the three it came from. Maybe it was all at once. Beneath it all, he could sense darkness within each one of the boys. They all had different shades of it, and they were all on the way to mending in their own way. He decided it would have to be enough. If he hadn’t sensed even a little bit of that, he would never have been able to bring himself to add them to his Foxes. That was his criteria, after all: he took broken people, those who needed a second chance. These boys may not all need him to get that second chance, but at least they were all broken.

Eventually Wymack resorted to his default style: gruff no-nonsense, straight to the point. "Here’s the thing, boys. I didn’t come here for the three of you, but I was impressed with what I saw. I’m in desperate need of two dealers and a goalie. Each of you can have a full-ride scholarship if you’ll sign to my team.”

Adam did not hesitate. “I’m in.”

Gansey and Ronan both looked at him in surprise. “What happened to Harvard?” Gansey asked.

“I didn’t get a scholarship,” Adam replied coolly. “Palmetto isn’t my first choice of school, but I’d get the chance to play more Exy, go to school for free, and not have to work.” He looked wistful. “I’ll be able to sleep.”

Ronan glared. “I’m not going with you.”

Gansey turned to him, eyes pleading. “But why not?”

“You know why. I have to stay here.” Ronan nodded towards Wymack to indicate why he wouldn’t go into more detail. “And I can’t leave Opal alone.” He stomped off.

Gansey looked chagrined, and then sighed. “May we have a night to think about it, Coach Wymack?” Wymack nodded. “We may be able to work something out for him. If I can convince him to sign, then I will too.”

“Well, I’ll be here until tomorrow morning.” He pulled out a blank sheet of paper from one of his files and wrote “300 Fox Way” on it before handing it to Gansey. “I’ll be visiting an old friend at this address, so you can stop by when you’re ready to sign.” Gansey read the paper and laughed, handing it to Adam, who also laughed. Wymack’s eyebrows rose. “Are you familiar with it?”

Gansey grinned. “Our good friend Blue lives there.”

Well, that explains a lot, thought Wymack.

****

The five of them finally convened at Ninos later that night. Henry had already ordered enough pizza and breadsticks for a small army by the time Gansey and Adam had arrived, and Ronan had probably eaten half of it himself.

“What took you so long?” asked Blue, in between bites. She was out of her jersey, wearing possibly 4 different shirts that had been stitched together into a dress before going through a woodchipper. “Wymack doesn’t talk that much.”

Gansey laughed. “I knew he was here to recruit you. You’re an excellent striker, and apparently he’s an old family friend. You’ve been holding out on us.”

Blue grimaced. “I’d never heard my mother mention him, but apparently they go way back.” She took another bite of pizza, chased it down with some soda, and then gave in. “I saw his face change when I walked into the room. He’s very clearly a psychic; that must be how they know each other.” She laughed then. “I will never be free of them, will I?”

“I hope not,” Adam muttered around his mouthful of pepperoni. Blue was a bit chagrined; she tended to forget that he was technically a psychic now too. 

“Sorry, Adam,” she said gently. “You know I don’t lump you in with the others. Anyway, I signed on. Full scholarship, five years. I think I might be able to study abroad in the summers if I work it out with Coach before hand. What about you guys?”

“We all have offers,” Gansey began.

“I signed with them,” Adam butted in. “And I know you want to. Ronan shot them down.”

All four of the others turned their attention to Ronan. “Spit it out,” Blue said. “Why did you say no?”

Ronan just glared at her, but he had never won a staredown with her yet, and this was not his chance to start. “I can’t control my dreams off the leyline,” he muttered. “It’d be dangerous for me to leave. And I can’t leave Opal by herself for that long. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Blue nodded in understanding, and the table was silent for a moment. Gansey broke it. “I’m pretty sure Palmetto is on a leyline,” he mused. “I’m sure any leyline would work, not just this one.” He pulled his journal out of his pocket, and Ronan rolled his eyes.

“We already found Glendower. Do you still need to carry that fucking thing around?”

“Yes, Ronan,” Gansey replied with his ever-infinite patience. “Look. We will be right on the line.” He spun the book around so that the other at the table could look at the map. Blue reach out to trace the line that clearly passed through Palmetto. Henry grabbed her wrist and handed her a napkin before she could get grease on the book. 

Adam tilted his head to the side, his sign that he was thinking about what to say. “It may not be as strong as our leyline, but if it is it may work. I can do maintenance on it too.” He looked at Ronan for confirmation and got a glare in return. “That solves only half the problem, however.”

“I have an idea,” said Henry, who had been astonishingly quiet so far. The table looked at him in surprise. “You’ve been planning to revive Cabeswater, right, Ronan?” The dark boy nodded, eyes wary. “Dream it tonight. Your mom can stay there with Opal, and you can come back and visit every weekend that we don’t have a game. It’d be a long drive, but doable.”

Ronan nodded. “I will try tonight. I’ll need some help, maggot.” Blue nodded. “Adam?”

They looked at each other, Greywaren and Magician. To them, nobody else mattered in that moment. They could read each other in a way the others couldn’t, as if they moved to a rhythm no one else could hear. An unsettling grin spread across Ronan’s face at the same moment that Adam’s mouth twitched into a small  smile. “I’m in,” Adam said.

Gansey grinned and then finally settled into the pizza. “Looks like we have a plan. Blue? You better call Fox Way.” 

Blue was already pulling her phone out of her pocket, and she laughed. “I’ll tell them I’ll be gone all night. Let’s do this.”

****

They gathered that night in the spot where the entrance to Cabeswater had been. Blue, ever the sensible one, had packed a few bags full of blankets so they wouldn’t freeze in the spring night. She'd also brought a few candles, a bowl, and a jug of grape juice for Adam to meditate with. 

The five of them set up the site quietly. Gansey and Henry's presence wasn't necessary, but at this point in their adventures it would have been beyond useless to ask them to sit out, so they'd joined under strict orders to be as quiet as they could be. It was a tall order for talkative Cheng, but the somber feel of the night finally got through to him.

Ronan had a makeshift bed set up, and Adam sat next to him. Between them was the candle, now lit, and a bowl full of grape juice. Blue settled herself there as well, and the three of them made a circle. Adam and Blue linked hands, and each rested a palm on Ronan's head, which made him curse. 

"Did you have a better plan?" Blue snapped. Ronan cursed again before shifting around so he could have both his hands free and within reach of the others. Ronan closed his eyes and Adam settled his gaze into the bowl.

After a few minutes it became clear to Henry that Adam was zoned out and Ronan was asleep, so he felt safe to whisper a bit to Gansey and Blue. "I know this was my idea," he started, "but do you think it will actually work? I'm still new to this aspect of everything."

Blue didn’t remove her gaze from Adam's face. "I'm not sure," she murmured, "but I think it's our best bet. I'd feel better if we all went to Palmetto together. I know Ronan can take care of himself, but he shouldn't have to. I don’t want to leave him alone." Henry shifted around uncomfortably. He didn’t want to be left behind either. He was the newest piece of the group, and it seemed like he would never quite fit in right. Perhaps it was because he was stepping into the shoes of a dead boy who he had never met. Perhaps it was just that he had missed the bulk of the drama. He was happy to be here, but sad that he didn’t feel like he would ever really belong.

Blue seemed to sense his thoughts, as she was wont to do. "You belong with us too, Henry, but you don’t need to give up Venezuela for us. You'll come back to us." She turned her head slightly so he could see her ghost of a smile. "And this way, I'll be able to afford to come visit you on spring break."

Henry smiled. "I'll hold you to that then." A silence stretched between them. "Though if it doesn't work-"

"It will work," Gansey declared. His voice was full of command. It was the voice that had woken the creatures in the cave, the voice that had demanded that Cabeswater give up Glendower. His voice seemed to ripple through the air, leaving Blue and Henry shivering in its wake. "It will work," he said again, "and it will be stronger than ever before."

At that instant Adam snapped his gaze up to Blue, eyes wild. "It's here." A bolt of lightning shot down from the cloudless sky, striking the ground right in the center of the group, and the world went white.

***

They hiked out of the forest in silence that night, hesitant to break the spell that had surrounded them. Their dream forest was back. It was not the same forest, with different trees and streams and animals, but it still spoke Latin. It recognized them all. Greywaren, Treedaughter, King, Magician. It even knew Henry, though none of them had a translation for the dream speak word that had been used.

It was still a place of beauty, and, as always, a place of dreams. The crowning gem had been the clearing where it always rained and the rain made you feel both happy and sad. 

Blue had cried, thinking of Noah and how much he would have loved it. She knew he was gone, knew deep in her heart that he had let go and moved on. He'd always understood her more than any of the others had. She knew it was a ghost thing. But she had understood him in return. She knew he had held on in fear- not for himself, but for his friends. For the life he had saved on the leyline 7 years ago. For the family he had created after death. He knew they were safe now, and so he had gone.

They arrived back at Monmouth as the sun went up, having silently agreed that they needed to be together. But before they could sleep, Blue borrowed Ronan's phone and called Fox Way. "Put Coach on the line," she told Orla. She looked at Ronan, eyebrow raised, and he glared back for awhile before grinning and nodding. "Hello, yes, Coach." She continued. "This is Blue. Ronan and Gansey are in. Leave the paperwork with my mother, they will send it in later. We are going to bed." She listened for awhile before handing the phone to Gansey.

"Hello," Gansey said, bringing out the President Cellphone voice. "Yes, we are both in. No, she didn’t bully us into it. We had to work something out together last night to make it possible for Ronan to join us. Yes, he is in too. No, he doesn’t want to talk to you," he told Coach without even asking Ronan, who grinned even wider, leaning back on the couch. "See you in July then." He hung up. "Guess that's it then." He grinned. "We're going to Palmetto." Blue and Henry cheered, waking up Adam who had already passed out on the couch. Ronan grabbed Adam and dragged him toward his room. Blue went to Noah's old room, leaving Gansey and Henry alone in the front room together.

Gansey looked at Henry for a moment before reaching out and clasping him on the shoulder. "I wish you were coming with us."

Henry shook his head and tried to smile, but it was obviously an effort. "You won’t be rid of me forever," he said. “I’ll miss you, but I can afford to come visit. And I’ll be there next year, if not in the spring.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Gansey relaxed. It just wouldn’t be right until they were all together again, but for now this was good enough.

[pynches]

a/n it’s finally here... the tennis fic (let me know if you want a smutty bonus chapter)

word count: 2073

Adam Parrish doesn’t lie to himself. He doesn’t make a situation better than it is so he feels better in a false sense of comfort. He doesn’t lie to himself about his past, not about the decreasing number of saving money stashed away in a little box beneath one of the old floorboards of St. Agnes, not about the things he wants and what he is willing to do to get them.

Adam Parrish doesn’t lie to himself about his attraction to Ronan Niall Lynch.

It’s a dangerous attraction, one that is threatening to consume him violently, but also one Adam can’t let go of. It has been there since he met Ronan, when they were younger and Ronan was sharper, angrier. Ronan was a reckless beauty, one that predicted nothing but destruction and agony.

Adam was addicted.

That fateful day they met and the months after, Adam figured that, yes, he did notice Ronan’s rugged handsomeness, but that didn’t mean he was attracted to him. Everybody saw Ronan and there was no denying that his beauty was incomparable.

It took him months before Adam realised that shit I actually am attracted to him in a "please fucking kiss me" type of way.

If he hadn’t realised it before, he definitely would realise it now. The skin-tight, white tennis shorts were positively sinful and Ronan was starting to sweat through his white t-shirt, making the material cling to his skin.

It was indecent.

Not for the first time, Adam wondered what had possessed him to watch Ronan’s tennis practise. He should have just walked home instead. If it wasn’t for his flat tire, that he couldn’t afford to replace, and Gansey having a row club meeting, Adam wouldn’t have had to expose himself to the most erotic thing he had witnessed in his short life.

“Ronan can take you home,” Gansey had said apologetically. He hadn’t quite mastered the sad puppy dog look like Noah had but it was good enough to make Adam feel bad.

“It’s fine, Gansey,” Adam had replied with a small smile. “I can just walk home.”

Gansey had shook his head vigorously. “No, I made a promise I didn’t keep so let Ronan take you home today. I’ll come pick you up from St. Agnes tomorrow.”

Adam hadn’t felt like arguing, so he agreed and asked Gansey were Ronan was right now. He hadn’t seen him since he walked out of the classroom last period. Adam had assumed Ronan already left.

“Tennis practise,” Gansey told him with a quick look at his watch. “I really have to go. Sorry, Adam.”

And off he was.

Now, Adam was seated on a little bench, right next to the tennis court with an excellent view on Ronan and his opponent. It was Ronan’s serve and he bounced the ball on the floor a couple of times.

The wrist of the hand he bounced the tennis ball with a with was usually bound in leather bracelets, but Ronan had taken them off for practice. Adam could reason that it was probably annoying to have them constantly sliding up and down your arm every time you moved, but he still cursed Ronan for it as he could not concentrate on anything but the pale white of the inside of his wrist. The scars were barely visible from where Adam was sitting but he knew they were there and he wanted to kiss them softly, which was definitely the purest thought he had so far.

The poor guy looked terrified as Ronan seized him up before he reached up to serve.

I don’t blame him, Adam thought as he watched Ronan’s biceps bulge, showing off the muscles he’d gained from sleepless nights filled with training and his need for fighting every person he encountered.

A little strip of skin showed as Ronan’s shirt rode up as he jumped, part of the v leading down his abdomen visible. Adam felt his breath halter and his skin flush, desperately praying nobody would notice.

Who the fuck gave Ronan the right to look like this?

The ball shot from Ronan’s racket like a bullet, flying past his opponents own racket, despite him jumping to reach for it.

This time, it was the opponent who was given a chance to serve by an uninterested coach who spend more time on his cellphone than actually watching the game. If it wasn’t for the guy complaining that he didn’t have a chance to practice because, “Lynch keeps serving and it’s not fair!” he probably would never had the ball the entire match.

Adam couldn’t help but feel proud.

As Ronan’s opponent got ready to serve, Ronan himself bent through his knees a little, leaning forward more than Adam was capable of handling. As if Ronan knew he was staring at him, he glanced at Adam quickly and gave him a smirk that momentarily made Adam’s heart stop beating.

Adam’s hands clenched into fists as he watched the quick back and forth, each slam of Ronan’s racket deadly precise and harder than Adam now was. It took merely seconds before he made the point.

As the walked back to their place Ronan slowly lifted the edge of his white t-shirt. Adam was sure he was going to black out when more and more of his abdomen was revealed, his muscles shifting as his hand lifted the shirt farther up. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the edge of his shirt and dared to wink at him after.

Ronan ruined him from everyone else, Adam decided. There was really no coming back from this.

The match lasted both too long and not long enough. Adam could have watched him play forever, but he was in a desperate need for a cold shower. Maybe he should ask Ronan how confessionals work.

“Didn’t know you were a tennis guy.”

Well, I fucking am now.

“Ehm- yeah, I mean, I guess.” Adam was blabbering. Why was he blabbering? He felt a hot rush of warmth shot up to his cheeks which were undoubtedly even brighter red than they had been before. His embarrassment grew further at Ronan’s sharp smile, eyeing him up and down like he had him figured out entirely. Adam hated how well Ronan knew him, how easy to read he was despite trying his best to remain unknowable.

“Have you ever played tennis, Parrish?”

Adam briefly wondered if that was an implication of something else but reprimanded himself immediately.

Get your shit together.

Please.

“No,” Adam admitted. “But I’d like to learn.”

No, he really didn’t. He thought tennis was a sport meant for preppy rich people and he was certainly not one of them. Ronan stared at him, probably knowing what Adam was thinking but Adam held his stare, steady. Or, well, as steady as he could be in this situation.

“Come on then,” Ronan smirked, walking back to the edge of the tennis court. Adam remained frozen in his seat. Ronan made a beckoning motion and Adam moved towards him without remembering getting up.

“Here,” Ronan said, handing Adam his own racket. Adam gripped the handle tightly, his hands shaking. “I’m gonna throw you a ball and see how you handle it, okay?”

Adam nodded dumbly. He moved into a poor imitation of Ronan’s stance he had more than analysed a few minutes before. Ronan stood not too far from him, backlit by the sun. His body glistened in the reclining rays of sunlight dancing off his skin.

He’s a god.

Adam was too busy staring at the way Ronan’s glorious body moved when he threw the ball to even move his racket up in a poor attempt of hitting it. Ronan raised an eyebrow.

“You’re supposed to hit it.”

“I know that,” Adam bit out, picking the ball off the ground. He closed the distance between them and pushed the ball into Ronan’s chest, ignoring the muscles he felt through his thin shirt.

“You sure you’re ready?” Ronan asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Not even remotely.

“Yes.”

This time he managed to concentrate enough to actually hit the ball. It didn’t go far, though. Ronan shook his head as if this was the biggest disappointment in his life.

“You’re hitting it all wrong,” he told Adam moving closer. Ronan came to a halt behind Adam, stopping him with two hands on his shoulders when he tried to turn around. “Let me show you.”

Adam bit his lip and quietly thanked every god he knew that Ronan didn’t see his face right now.

Ronan’s body aligned with his, standing closer than was necessary but Adam wasn’t complaining. He tried not to lean into the touch when one of Ronan’s hands moved down his arms and gripped his wrist firmly. His touch was searing through every vessel in Adam’s body and it took everything to not turn around and jump Ronan right then and there.

“This is called the forehand stroke,” Ronan whispered in his good ear right before he swung his arm outwards and upwards in one swift motion.

“Got it?” Ronan asked softly. Adam nodded despite not remembering anything but the feel of Ronan’s skin against his.

“Good,” Ronan said normally now. He stepped back and Adam immediately felt the loss, though he was thankful for the opportunity to finally breathe.

“Now, show me.”

“What?” Adam asked, staring at Ronan who just smiled at him savagely.

“Show me the forehand stroke,” Ronan repeated, his voice dropping an octave. Adam felt his mouth open slightly. He took in Ronan’s relaxed stance, his hands buried in the pockets of those ridiculous shorts that clung to his thighs in a way that should be illegal, the way his arms nearly ripped the sleeves of his drenched t-shirt to shreds, the wicked glare in his eyes that dared Adam to take the jump.

So he did.

With a few long strides, he positively threw himself at Ronan, his hands pulling Ronan’s head down desperately. Ronan let out a soft laugh against his mouth but Adam had enough. He had been teasing him the entire afternoon and Adam needed to kiss him now or he’d lose his mind.

Adam bit Ronan’s lip in warning and relished in the moan Ronan let out. Adam took the opportunity to slot their lips together and finally get the kiss he deeply craved.

Ronan curled his arms around Adam’s lower back, pulling him flush against himself. Their kiss deepened and Adam hung on for dear life. Ronan’s lips against his sent a wave of heat through his body. The contrast of Ronan’s soft lips and the hard lines of his body left Adam trembling in his arms.

All thoughts were drown out besides fuck and more.

He broke the kiss to take a breath and took his time to angrily glare at Ronan.

“You planned this!” he said accusingly, poking his finger in Ronan’s hard chest who laughed breathlessly.

“I took an opportunity, Parrish,” Ronan had such a triumphant smirk on his lips, Adam had to kiss it off them. It was Adam’s turn to smirk when he licked into Ronan’s mouth and felt him tremble under his hands.

“Didn’t take you for an exhibitionist,” Ronan said, his voice gravelly. Adam felt his knees weaken.

“Didn’t think you knew a word as long as that one,” Adam retorted and brushed a hand through his hair. Ronan let out a surprised laugh at Adam’s snark, one he heard often when he commented on other Aglionby students. It always made Adam feel warm and proud he could make someone like Ronan Lynch laugh.

“I don’t do casual,” Ronan needlessly pointed out. Adam rolled his eyes.

“Nothing between us has ever been casual,” he replied.

This had been building for a long time and Adam knew they would ultimately come to a crashing point. This was that one point they could never return from, no matter how hard they tried and Adam was ready to let himself fall head first into this.

Ronan smiled at him, a soft smile that made Adam’s heart beat faster than it already was. It must have shown on his face because Ronan stepped closer again, letting a hand linger on the side of his face. He leaned in and whispered, “let’s get out of here”.

Adam reached for his hand and pulled him towards his car.

No holding back.

[ragesingoddess]

Always come home to me

Ronan's eyes are closed but not because he wants to sleep. He just can't stand being awake.

The hours just don't seem to pass fast enough.

He has tried keeping himself busy. He woke up at 6 am, unwillingly. Considering the fact that he had just managed to fallen asleep at 3 the past night, the bed sheets seeming suddenly way to heavy, like they were trying to trap him between them and force him to stay down, he knew that he should be feeling tired that he should even be able to fool his mind and get back to sleep even for a few minutes, but he was not able to control his nerves no matter how hard he tried.

After he manged to get himself out of his bedroom and make a cup of coffee, he stormed the door open and tried to distract himself by working around the farm. He fed the cows and cleaned the barns, he walked a bit further into the woods to meet Opal who instead of being helpful for once, seemed to be just as restless as he was.

She jumped around his legs, her croocked teeth appearing under her childish lips and started asking millions of questions, her sudden excitement concealing her usual shyness for words and grumpy attitude.

"How many hours left?" she asked, her black eyes never quite leaving Ronan's face.

"Patience, brat."

Opal was part of himself after all and Ronan had no doubt that in this moment every cell of his being was tense.

Adam was coming home.

~

Ronan had cleaned and tidied the whole house, cooked enough food for at least a week, changed the furniture's place three times and counting and managed to somehow make Chainsaw take a bath. He was mopping a small pool of water under the sink when his phone rang.

He picked up before the third ring.

"Parrish?"

"Ronan," Gansey's cheerful voice greeted him from the other end of the line, "hello to you too."

"The fuck you want Dick?"

"Well, to be fair, I was not expecting you to pick up in the first place," Gansey said and Ronan could clearly see the cheeky grin on his face like he was there.

"Don't flatter yourself, fucker, I wouldn't have if I knew it was you."

"Figures,"

"Fuck you."

"Thank you, but I think I'll pass."

"Get to point, Dick, if you couldn't tell already I'm fucking busy."

"Don't worry I won't be occupying you for long. Actually, I don't think you are able to help me after all. I was merely calling to ask if Adam had arrived in safety but from what I am gathering he is not there yet." Gansey said.

Ronan was not sure if he should laugh at him for his still remeaning poss tone after all that time or curse him for doing anything in his willpower to not help him keeping his thoughts distracted while he was suffering.

"Well goodfuckingbye then."

"Call me the second he gets there!" Gansey rumbled, trying to keep Ronan from ending the call right then and there.

"No," Ronan said but with no poison at all.

Gansey had probably started speaking again but Ronan had long stopped listening, because from the other side of the kitchen's wide open window he was able to hear the shit box's engine going off, the car's door opening and closing soundly and the soft knocking on his front door.

"--Fuck off Richard, he's here--"

"Tell him I say hi--"

But this time Ronan ended the call without even thinking, tossing his phone to the couch beside him, and after taking a deep breath made his way quickly to open the door.

The moment his gaze met with Adam's burning blue one he felt his whole body relax and his eyes started burning with longing.

He hadn't been able to completely understand how much he had missed Adam before this moment, but now with Adam staring at him with the most genuine smile on his lips, a smile that was lighting up his whole face and with one of his eyebrows barely arched suggestivly, Ronan was not sure how he had been able to survive without this, all of this, for so fucking long.

He was not sure how long they spend there, just staring into each other's eyes before he felt his cheeks hurting from happiness and his face was buried in Adam's neck.

Ronan wrapped his hands around Adam's slim shoulders, his nose taking in his both familiar and foreign sweet smell, and started pressing feather kisses just bellow Adam's ear, his lips moving without his command.

"I fucking missed you, asshole."

Adam did not respond. He just grabbed Ronan's face with both his palms, one of his thumbs tracing softly along his cheekbone, his smile still on and more blinding than the sun.

He then brought their lips together, slowly at first, in a devouring kiss that almost had Ronan lose control and break down right in Adam's arms. Ronan kissed back just as tenderly, one of his arms leaving Adam's shoulders in order to tangle in his soft brown hair, and finally he felt like he was breathing again, smiling like an idiot once more, his lips not once breaking contact.

It was everything, it was too much, it was not  fucking enough.

Without breaking the kiss, he gently pushed Adam inside the house, tossing the door closed mindlessly behind him and pressed Adam's back against it, one of his knees finding imidiatly it's way between Adam's legs.

Adam was breathing heavily, his soft, calloused palms creppind under Ronan's t shirt and when Ronan pressed his leg harder against Adam his nails leaved red patterns in the inked skin of his back.

Ronan had to break his lips away from Adam's, brushing them to the freckled skin of his neck again, leaving a loud moan that had Adam tighten his grip on Ronan's back.

Ronan turned them around, lips messily seeking contact, bringing one of his hands to rest on Adam's chest and trying to guide them to the sofa without once opening his eyes.

At some point in the process he stumbled upon the small table that had for some fucking reason decided to change its possision and was very inconveniently placed right in the middle of the living room.

A few colorful curses left Ronan's mouth but Adam just laughed, the sound somehow muffled between their kisses, and decided to take the lead instead, shoving Ronan across the sofa and taking his own place right on the top of him.

He pressed one quick kiss on Ronan's lips and then one on his right cheek and then he smiled again and Ronan was in heaven.

"Hey," Adam said, the smile on his face not even flinching as he pressed his forehead against Ronan's.

"Hey," Ronan echoed, one of his thumbs tracing the outline of Adam's eyebrow just before he brought his face up to kiss Adam's mouth. 

Adam sifted slightly, just so that he could rest his good ear on Ronan's chest his hand finding Ronan's and tangling their fingers together.

Ronan brought their joined hands to his mouth and softly kissed each one of Adam's knuckles.

"Missed you," Adam mumbled, his face buried on Ronan's shirt.

"Don't be a sap," Ronan said but he was smiling and Adam knew.

Ronan was slowly tracing his fingers through Adans hair which had gotten longer than the last time he saw him, and he kissed the top of his head because he had missed him too and because he fucking could.

Adam looked up to him and smiled.

Ronan had not ever seen something so goddamned beautiful.

"I love you."

Adam pressed his face on Ronan's shirt again, his nose resting perfectly between his neck and his shoulder and his fingers held on tighter on Ronan's hand and Ronan brought his other hand around his shoulders and they were happy and calm and together and it was all Ronan could ever ask for and more.

"Love you too," Adam wishpered and Ronan shivers feeling his lips moving against his neck.

~

Later they would have dinner on the kitchen and Adam would mock Ronan lovingly for making more food than the counters could hold.

Later they would go out in the forest hand in hand and Opal would be be there to greet them in a second, throwing herself in Adam's arms and Adam would hug her back allowing her to show him around the Barns as if he had never been there before and he was encountering the magic and the quest of Ronan's dreams for the first time.

Later they would videochat with Gansey, Blue and Henry and Adam's hand would rest around Ronan's shoulder like it belonged there, and they would all laugh at one of Henry's stupid jokes and they would make plans to meet the weekend because they missed each other more than any of them would ever admit.

Later they would make love in Ronan's childhood bedroom and they would stay for hours tangled together beneath the covers, nose pressed against nose, and Ronan would be able to finally, finally sleep because Adam's steady breath beneath his ears and the warmth of his embrace was enough to keep him human and more. 

But for now they stayed there, cuddled on the small sofa, the sun slowly setting on the mountains just behind them, hands securely wrapped around one another, because Adam was home, he was home, and so nothing else really mattered.

(posting this here too for everyone who prefers tumblr reading! Tumblr kissing prompts requested by @roonill--wazlib! Thank you so much for this prompt and I hope ya all enjoy some pure pynch fluff!)

[caelestisnox]

ten ways to say “i love you” (adansey)

ao3 link

1.

They’ve been doing this thing—hanging out, talking about cars and dead kings, being friends—for almost a month but Adam still doesn’t feel all that comfortable with Gansey. He doesn’t think he ever will. Don’t get him wrong. He likes Gansey, he likes spending time with Gansey, he likes being with Gansey. Hell, he willingly subjects himself to Gansey’s overly abrasive other half on a regular basis for Gansey.

It’s just… He can’t let go. He’s spent years hyper aware of his every movement, every word, every action, wondering if it will betray his Henrietta roots to people like them. A part of him is always waiting for a look of derision, a condescending quirk of an eyebrow. Something that tells how he doesn’t belong in Aglionby. With them. And that he should stop trying because he never will.

Sometimes though. Sometimes Gansey can catch him off guard. Gansey who can and will talk for hours upon hours about Arthurian legends, the soft cadence of his voice lulling him into calmness. Gansey who looks at him with soft expressions and awe in his eyes. Gansey who makes him feel at peace and comfortable enough to stop being self conscious.

Most of the time, the two of them hanging out means him going with Gansey back to Monmouth. This afternoon is different though. School has let out, his father is out of town and he has no work shift to rush to. It’s the perfect time to show Gansey the relatively secret part of the river that cuts through the Henrietta woods.

It’s something known only to locals like him and he knows Gansey lives for such local secrets like this. Which is why it’s not surprising when Gansey practically rips his arm off its socket, yanking at him at his rush to get there, when he asks if he wants to go there. The usually flappable and aloof Gansey is acting like a hyperactive toddler and the ridiculousness of it makes Adam burst into helpless giggles. The sound of it must have startled Gansey because he stops yanking and just looks at him.

Gansey doesn’t say anything, just looks at him with that soft expression on his face again.

“What?” he asks, a little bit confused. He’s not sure if he’s imagining it, but Gansey might be blushing.

Gansey gives him a small smile. “Nothing. I like your laugh.”

 2.

He loves his car. He really does. The Pig is one of his favorite things in the world. But what he doesn’t love is stalling on the side of some weird road in the middle of nowhere when he’s already late to meet up with his friends. Usually he’d just call AAA (or whatever the small town version of it is called).

Adam has been teaching him how to fix cars though. On rare moments when they don’t have school, Adam doesn’t have work and he doesn’t have a new Glendower lead to pore through. He thinks he’s done fine though, it’s going well. Or so he thinks. Which is why he takes the toolbox out from his trunk, pops open the hood and decides that he can fix it for himself. Adam would be so proud.

To his credit, he gets to spend at least five minutes poking and prodding at his engine before it sparks and he’s forced to admit defeat.

He kicks at the dirt and sighs before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He takes his phone out and dials Ronan’s number.

“Hey, Gansey. Pig stall out again?”

“You reading minds now, Ro?”

“Telepathy isn’t one of my many abilities, you’re just that predictable.”

“Thank you for that. Can you come pick me up?”

Silence. There’s a sound of scuffling in the background and when Ronan talks again he sounds a little worried. “Listen…”

“Oh no.”

“Gansey, you know I would do anything for you but, me and Noah are kind of the middle of something.” As if on cue, a metallic screeching is heard followed by Noah swearing softly.

“It’s Noah and I. Also, what are you doing?”

“A very volatile experiment.”

“Please don’t burn down Monmouth while I’m out.”

“We’ll try!”

He hangs up. Sends a text.

He’s leaning against the car, face tipped up to the sky and watching the slow passage of clouds when he hears the sound of gravel under bicycle wheels.

He waits a beat before he starts speaking, “In my defense, I really thought I had it all under control before the engine started sparking.”

Adam scoffs at that and Gansey turns to look at him. He’s wearing faded jeans and an equally faded shirt but all it does is emphasize how sharp and clear Adam always seems to him. Like he’s the realest thing in Gansey’s world.

He gets off his bike and stands next to where Gansey is leaning so he can nudge his shoulder against his. “You’re still getting better though. You didn’t set it on actual fire so that’s an improvement.”

Gansey feels his lips twitch into a smile, and nudges Adam’s shoulder back. Adam laughs and walks over to the hood of the car, inspecting the damage.

Barely a minute later he looks back and Gansey and says, “Come here. Let’s fix this.”

 3.

Adam rubs at his eyes and tries to blink himself to alertness. He looks at the page he and Gansey are supposed to be studying but the numbers and coefficients have started to blur together. Gansey himself has his head on the desk and is probably sleeping already.

Right, time to call it quits then. They didn’t do that bad, really. They’ve had the concept of orthogonality and orthonormality locked down early enough in their study session. It’s the more advanced parts they had a problem with and that won’t really show up on the exam.

He reaches across the table to give Gansey’s shoulders a little shove.

“Wake up.”

No response.

“Gansey, wake up. Go sleep in your real bed.”

Still nothing. He walks around to Gansey’s side and pokes him in the ribs. Gansey’s head snaps up, wakefulness crashing into him.

“Did I fall asleep?” he asks.

Adam just laughs at that. “Yeah. But I think we’ve studied enough. I’m heading home. Go sleep in your bed.”

“Oh,” says Gansey. He takes a peek at his watch, surprise crossing across his face. “Oh, it’s late. Wait, Adam, I’ll drive you home.”

Adam thinks of The Pig and its accompanying roar waking up his father. Thinks of snide comments and where-have-you-beens he’d have to deal with, at the very least. “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“It’s past eleven, Adam. You can’t think I’m just going to let you walk in the dark.”

“I have my bike.”

“Jesus, Adam. How is this a big deal? Load up the bike, too. I just don’t want you going off alone when it’s this late.”

“Gansey,” he says catching one of his gesticulating hands. Adam looks at Gansey in the eye, willing him to understand his unverbalized reason. “I don’t need you to drive me home.”

Gansey gets it of course. He lets out a defeated sigh. “Sure. But please, do me a favor. Call me when you get home.”

“Sure,” he answers. He draws Gansey in for a goodbye hug. “I’ve lived here my whole life, Gansey. I’m gonna be okay, stop worrying.”

He feels Gansey’s breath tickle the back of his neck as he replies, “You’re asking the impossible of me. I always worry.”

 4.

Gansey hears a muffled thump and a curse from Ronan.

Before he can even turn to look at the commotion, he hears Ronan again. “Whoa, Parrish. Move the fuck out the doorway. What are you looking—Oh.” Even without looking he knows Ronan’s got a self-satisfied smile on by that one word. He hears Ronan laugh and walk over to him. Ronan throws an arm across his shoulders and spins him around so they’re facing an extremely red-faced Adam Parrish.

“Adam!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know you were here. Have you been waiting long? What’s wrong? You look flustered.” He looks sideways at Ronan. “Did you do something to him?”

Ronan just grins sharp. “I’m not the one who did something to him.” He ignores Adam’s hissed out warning to stop talking and continues, “I think it’s his first time seeing you in skinny jeans.”

Oh. He’s not quite sure which way to take that. He’d like to think it’s Adam thinking he looks nice but it could also mean he looks weird. He knows Adam’s mostly used to seeing him in uniform or khakis. That’s his trademark style, maybe the skinny jeans make him look uncouth or trying to be cool. It’s Ronan’s fault, really. He only wears them when he’s going out with him. Ronan always said he looked attractive in them though and he trusts Ronan’s opinions. Mostly.

While he’s having this monologue in his mind, Adam’s been trying and failing to get a word out. He fumbles on his reply before managing to tell him, “It’s nothing, I’m fine. I was just surprised. It�� uh… It looks good on you. Not that your other clothes don’t look good on you. The jeans are just… nice.”

“Oh,” he hears himself say. He’s pretty sure he’s blushing now, too. He feels his lips curl into a smile. “Thanks.”

 5.

He usually tells Gansey beforehand when he’s going to Monmouth. It’s a habit, born out of the early days when he thought that type of formality was required by Gansey and his kind. This afternoon though, he forgoes that notion and just goes straight inside Gansey and Ronan’s (and Noah’s, he tends to forget that) home.

His first thought is that no one’s there but he spots a slight movement at the corner of his eye as Noah materializes.

“Hey, Noah,” he says in greeting and pivots to face him. He gives Noah’s hair a slight ruffle and Noah gives him a small smile in turn.

“You looking for Gansey?” Noah asks.

“Yeah. Is he in?”

Noah nods and points upstairs. “He’s playing with his Henrietta dollhouse.”

“Thanks.”

The sight that greets him upstairs makes his breath catch in his throat. Afternoon light filters through Monmouth’s huge windows and makes everything look golden.

Gansey is turned away from him, fully focused on his mini-Henrietta. His eyebrows are drawn together; elegant fingers working skillfully as he paints a box to add to his mini-city. His glasses slip a little bit and he pushes them up with two fingers, nose wrinkling up adorably. He pauses in his work to look out the window. Gansey stays quiet for a moment and lets out a deep longing sigh. The light makes casts a soft glow on him. He looks beautiful.

“Hey,” he breathes out.

Gansey turns to him and the world feels like it’s in slow motion. Adam is drawn to the way Gansey’s lips curl into a smile, imagines how it would be like to feel the way those lips move against his own.

“Adam,” Gansey says happily. “I was just thinking about you.”

 6.

He deliberates for a while but in the end, he gives in and knocks at Adam’s church apartment door. Adam stands on the other side, bleary eyed with rumpled hair. He looks so soft, Gansey wishes it would be acceptable to just burrow his face in Adam’s neck, nuzzle him and stay there forever.

“It’s late.” Adam tells him.

“I know,” he answers and adjusts his glasses. I couldn’t sleep, he wants to say. I couldn’t sleep because I keep thinking of you. I miss you. I hate when we fight. He doesn’t say any of that and instead blurts out. “Calculus.”

Adam blinks at him.

“Calculus,” he repeats. “I can’t get the answer to number four, I was hoping you can teach it to me?”

“Sure.” Adam steps back to let him in, watching him with concern. Adam takes off his coat and drapes it over a chair. “Take a seat.”

Adam sits across him and drags his school stuff out. “So, I think your mistake was not using integration by parts…”

That’s pretty much all he heard, preferring to just watch Adam in his element. Knowledgeable, focused, sure in every word that comes out of his mouth. He lets himself get lulled by the cadence of Adam’s voice, feeling the unease that has lived in their chest since the day of their fight finally settle.

-

“Gansey,” he hears someone say and give him a gentle shake. “Gansey,” the voice repeats and this time he feels a hand smooth the hair off his forehead.

“What?” he repeats blearily, trying to blink himself awake. He’s met with the sight of Adam’s face, about three inches in front of him. “Oh,” he takes a look at his watch. “Oh, it’s late.”

“I’m sorry. I kept you up late. I’m just gonna go home now,” he stutters out as he tries to gather his stuff but he’s stopped by Adam’s hands.

“Hey, no. Stop. It’s fine.,” Adam tells him. “It’s fine and you’re right, it’s late. Stay over.”

“Are you sure?” he asks with some trepidation.

“Gansey, you’re already wearing pajamas. Just stay. Okay?”

He smiles at Adam. “Okay.”

 7.

Adam opens his eyes with a loud gasp. He shivers a little, more because of the remnants of his nightmare than the cold weather itself. He’s breathing heavily as he lies there, staring at the ceiling trying to calm himself. Hydrogen Helium Lithium Berylium Boron Carbon, he thinks, reciting the periodic table as an effort to distract himself from the dream.

It’s never gonna come true. He’s never going to betray Gansey. Never going to do something that will break what he and Gansey have.

He feels a hand on his arm and freezes.

“Adam?” whispers Gansey. Oh, right. He told him to sleep here tonight. The hand on his arm tugs at him. “You alright?”

He goes with it, turning so he can look at Gansey. His glasses are off and his eyes are already half closed again. Gansey at rest almost looks common. Almost. The undefinable commanding aura that surrounds him is always present. He aches to reach across and touch him. Run his fingers through his hair again. Gansey has the blankets pulled up to his chest, knees curled up. He doesn’t like the cold either.

“I’m fine.”

Gansey hums and extends a hand and feels for his wrist, thumb resting at his pulse. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he whispers back to him. “Just a little cold.”

“Yeah?” Gansey tugs him closer and shuffles towards him. He raises an arm and covers Adam with the same blanket that he’s using. “Better?”

Gansey’s arm is resting at his waist and at this close, he can feel the warmth of Gansey’s breath on his skin. He reaches out and gently slides his arm under Gansey’s head. He smiles. “Better.”

Gansey snuggles closer and drops a kiss on his forehead before settling down again. “Good. Go back to sleep.”

 8.

“Gansey, I can’t.”

He tries not to, but he’s pretty sure Adam can still see how his heart breaks when he said those three words. Adam looks wrecked, too. Like Gansey confessing his love and saying “I think we could be amazing together.” is the last thing he wanted to hear. He blinks back to clear the unexpected bleariness from his eyes. It’s not your fault, he wants to say to Adam. I’ll be fine. It’s not your fault that you don’t love me the same way.

He wonders if it would be worse if Adam just doesn’t love him at all. Because Adam does love him, he knows that. He just isn’t in love with him.

“Oh…” he finally stutters out and wonders how a single syllable could sound so broken. “It’s fine,” he says in a voice that doesn’t sound like his, doesn’t feel like his, like some other person has taken control of his mouth, the words not his own. “I understand.”

If possible, those words just make look Adam more disturbed. “No,” he says, taking Gansey’s hand in his and pressing it on his own cheek. He turns his head to kiss Gansey’s palm and he can feel the shape of Adam’s lips burn in the center of his hand. Adam places his hand on the side of Gansey’s neck. “Please look at me,” he whispers.

Gansey doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to see how much he fucked things up. How he assumed things and destroyed his relationship with Adam.

“Gansey,” he hears him plead. And that’s enough to make him look. He could never deny Adam anything. “I love you.” Adam tells him.

And he knows, of course he does. They are friends. “I  know.”

“No you don’t,” he insists. “I’m in love with you, Gansey.”

His heart skips a beat and he’s so so confused. “Then why—“

“I just can’t be with you right now.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Adam sighs. “Gansey, you know why. I love you and you love me but we’re not in the right time nor place to love each other.” He scoots closer until he can lean down and put his head on Gansey’s shoulder. “Right now, this search is your life and that search needs you here in Henrietta. Your death and Glendower owns your mind and keeps you here. And, me... You know I’m going to leave Henrietta. It may not be forever and I may come back. But you know I want to live a part of my life away from here.”

Gansey’s hands have moved to stroke over Adam’s hair rhythmically. He knows what Adam means. They still have separate lives to live and no matter the depth of their feelings for each other, they can’t change that. He knows that. Had known it when Adam made the deal with Cabeswater. Known it during the party at his family’s house. It’s a while before he speaks again. “So, what happens to us?”

“I’m not sure. All I know is that next year I won’t be here.” Adam pulls back to look him in the eye. “And if we try this… us? right now? I don’t want us to end just because we both weren’t ready.”

“So we’re just never going to try?”

Adam lets out a sigh of frustration. “We will. We will, Gansey. Can’t you feel it? My feelings for you are never going to fade. We’ll have a chance, I swear.”

Gansey meets his gaze head on. “Okay. I understand what you’re saying. I do, it doesn’t mean it won’t hurt. That it’s not hurting right now.”

“It’s hurting for me, too,” Adam whispers.

“I know,” he answers. “It’s why I want to promise you something.”

“What?”

Gansey traces his thumb under Adam’s eye. “I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”

 9.

When he wakes up, the first thing he notices is the bright harsh fluorescent light. He closes his eyes and tries to raise his hand to block out the light as a reflex. That’s when he notices the pinch of a needle on his hand. His hand that is apparently being held by someone.

He opens his eyes and casts his gaze around the room. Blue’s asleep on a couch, head pillowed on Ronan’s jacket and feet on Noah’s lap. Noah’s leaning sideways on Ronan who has his head tipped back against the wall, the both of them also sleeping.

He looks at who’s holding his hand and feels a small jolt of surprise to see Adam. Adam, who’s supposed to be at New Haven and studying. With the hand Adam’s not holding, he reaches out and nudges at his shoulder.

“Adam,” he whispers. Nothing. He nudges at him a little bit harder and calls again. “Adam, hey.”

Adam blinks himself awake. “Gansey,” he breathes out. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he answers. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you to waking up. You had me— us —worried.”

“What about Yale?”

Confusion flashes across Adam’s face. “What do you mean what about Yale?”

“Well,” he starts. “You’re busy, aren’t you?”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he knows he said the wrong thing. Adam’s face falls and a hard glint replaces the concern in his eyes. “So what if I’m busy? You’re in the hospital, Gansey. Did you think I’d just ignore that?”

Irritation flashes at him. Barely a minute of conversation and they’re heading into an argument already. “Well, you’ve ignored me for the last month. What was I supposed to think?”

“You think I’m that callous? That heartless?” He sounds hurt. “I know I haven’t been the most reliable person lately and I’m sorry. I didn’t think it college would be that hard. But did you think I just stopped caring about you? That I don’t wish I can hear your voice and feel your hand in mine?”

There are tears hanging on his eyes now and he’s desperate to hold them back. “Then why did you stop calling me?”

Adam’s thumb wipes at the edge of his eyes. Even now, hurt and still a little bit angry, he cherishes the contact. “It’s hard, Gansey. I talk to you and I wish I could be right here in Henrietta with you. I miss you too much. I can’t bear it.”

The moment he stops talking he burrows his head on the hospital bed, hiding.

“Hey, hey. No.” Gansey reaches out and starts petting Adam’s hair. “You’re here. That matters more.”

“I’m sorry,” says Adam. He straightens up and looks Gansey in the eye. “I’m really sorry. I know I’ve been unfair to you. Everything feels too much and sometimes I get overwhelmed but please… Please always know, you’re important, too.”

“You guys done?” someone interrupts. “Because I have some words about both of your dramas.”

Gansey lets out a weak laugh. “Sure, Jane. For now, at least.”

 10.

He steps out of the car and takes a deep, deep breath. He hasn’t been back in this town for almost three years. Plane tickets are expensive and his friends have opted to just visit him in New Haven instead of the other way around.

“Takes for the ride,” he tells Ronan.

“No problem, Parrish. We’ve missed you around.”

“Yeah?”

“You fishing for compliments?” Ronan wraps an arm on his shoulders and drags him forward to start walking to Monmouth. “Of course we did. You know Noah bugs me about calling you at least once a week, he’s pissed he can’t use phones by himself.”

“And Gansey?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” he answers with a smirk.

Ronan unlocks the door and starts shouting, “Gansey?” No answer. “Gansey?! You here?”

A thump. “What, Ro?”

“Will you come down? I got you something.”

“Oh, god. Is it a calf?” his voice is sounding closer. “I told you I don’t care if they’re really cute, I can’t raise one. How would I even—“

He stops talking when he sees Adam. This is probably the most unkempt he’s seen Gansey. He’s wearing a rumpled sweater, his glasses are askew and his hair is a wild tangle. God, he’s missed him. It’s been three months since his last visit and god, he just misses him.

“Adam,” he breathes out. The distance between them disappears as Gansey practically flies to his arms into a hug.

He tightens his grip on Gansey, burying his head into his neck and taking a breath. He smiles into his neck, “Hey, Gansey.”

“Alright,” he hears Ronan say. “I’m gonna find Noah.”

“You gonna be staying long?” Gansey asks, still not letting go of him.

“Sort of?”

He pulls back. “Sort of?”

Adam waves a hand at the suitcases and luggage stacked besides Ronan’s car. “For as long as you’ll have me, I guess.”

Delight is evident on Gansey’s face. “You mean that?”

Adam smiles a soft smile at him. “I do.” He reels Gansey back in and presses a kiss to his check. “I told you we’d get our chance.”

He laughs. “I know. I know.” He showers kisses on Adam’s face. “I believed you.”

The next time he leans it, Adam meets him halfway. Their lips slotting together into a kiss that’s been years in the making. All the years, the unsaid words, the longing they had being poured into the push and pull of their mouths.

“Gansey,” he whispers against his lips. “Gansey. Gansey. Gansey.” He gives him a fierce kiss. “I love you. I will always love you.”

[swimmingwolf59]

Trying It Again

When Adam had said he’d wanted something unique for their first date, this was not what he’d meant.

Adam had done it all before. He’d bought flowers for girls, had them delivered to their doorsteps. He’d gone to movies, kissed them in the back of the movie theater. He’d gone out to dinner, shared secret touches under the table, walked them home and kissed them on their front porch. He’d done it all, and while he certainly wouldn’t mind doing it again, it didn’t sit right with him.

Because this was Ronan. Magical, incredible Ronan who Adam had never spent a dull moment with. Ever. Their entire lives were wrapped up in magic and craziness and it felt wrong, untruthful even, to have a mundane first date. Especially since so much was hanging on it.

After everything with Gansey and Glendower went down, both Adam and Ronan had relapsed into some kind of angry, mourning state. They were glad to be together and there for each other, they were glad Gansey was alive, but underneath everything was the profound sense of loss. Ronan had lost his mother, one of the only people who still mattered, and Adam had lost Cabeswater, one of the few beings that thought he mattered. They’d taken it out on each other, sometimes, in bad fights that neither of them wanted to be having but couldn’t seem to figure out how to stop. Sometimes it just hurt too much, and the need to lash out was too great.

They’d talked it out, and decided they needed to start over. Go on a date, since they hadn’t yet. Spend a day together that wasn’t about mourning or near-death experiences and was just about them. They needed to figure out who they were together before their grief tore them apart.

Adam went back to St. Agnes for the night, so that Ronan could do the whole ‘picking up my date in my fancy car’ thing and so that they could both take a breather and be excited about tomorrow. And Adam was excited – he was excited to see what Ronan had in store for them.

He just hadn’t been expecting this.

For Ronan picked him up, just as expected, in the hottest pair of jeans Adam had ever seen on another person, and drove them to the grocery store.

At first, Adam thought that it was a joke, so he remained in the car even when Ronan pulled into a parking spot. It was only when Ronan got out and grabbed fucking grocery bags that he had stored in the trunk of his fucking car that Adam realized he was serious.

Furious, Adam cranked down the window and glared at Ronan. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Ronan grinned and hooked his elbows on the window. “You said you wanted something unique.”

“This is not what I meant.”

But Ronan was still smirking as he leaned in to leave a kiss on Adam’s nose. “Just come into the damn store, Parrish, I swear you’ll like it.”

And really, Adam had no choice but to follow him. He wasn’t happy about it, though. He’d been so looking forward to this day, and it didn’t even seem like Ronan was taking it seriously, even though it had seemed like such a big deal to both of them when they’d talked about it before. He wondered with a sinking heart if maybe they’d lost something else when all of the shit had gone down, if they’d both forgotten how to have magic together.

When they stepped into the store, the cheap, ‘everything in one convenient stop!’ type of store that made Adam nervous he wound run into his parents, Ronan shoved one of the shopping bags into Adam’s hands. “Alright, here’s the game: you have to go through this store and pick out a picnic spread you think I’d really like. I’m going to do the same for you, and whoever gets done the slowest has to make breakfast for a week. Oh, and you can only spend $20 total.”

Adam was bewildered. “Wha—?”

“Go!” Ronan shouted cheerfully and ran off deeper into the store.

Adam lost ten precious seconds standing there like an idiot, trying to process what had just happened. It was only when his brain caught up to the losing terms that it kicked into action – he was decent in the kitchen, but he should not be allowed anywhere near a stove before he had his morning coffee.

So he couldn’t afford to lose.

A plan in his mind, he sprinted off down the aisles, nearly knocking shelves over in his haste. Even with his delay, he felt that he had the upper hand – he’d been bargain shopping literally his entire life and could find the cheapest combination of food items in his sleep. Ronan, who no doubt had never looked at a price tag in his life, wouldn’t stand a chance against that, even if he had a knack for instantly thinking of and being able to make food that Adam liked.

And as the game progressed, Adam actually found himself enjoying the challenge. Whenever he ran into Ronan he would shout taunts at him, laughing as Ronan merely cursed at him and shook a full basket that could in no way be under the money constraint in his face. One time, he and Ronan actually ran into each other as they both reached for a box of Pop-Tarts, an all-around family favorite. Though of course, neither of them grabbed it after seeing the other wanted it. They were both stubborn, after all.

When Adam was sure of his selections, he ran for the cash register, only to find Ronan running from it too from the opposite direction.

As they locked eyes, they both sped up, running and crashing through the crowds to reach the only open cash register first. Ronan had played tennis once upon a time, and worked on a farm, but Adam had spent a better portion of his life biking to school every day, and so it was with one second that Adam slammed into the counter before Ronan. It was so close that Ronan couldn’t stop in time and crashed into Adam, nearly causing them both to fall over.

Laughing, Adam triumphantly began unloading his cart onto the conveyer belt. “Too bad, Lynch – guess you’re making breakfast for a week.”

“Dammit,” Ronan panted out, but he was grinning as he slid his arms around Adam’s waist and leaned his chin on his shoulder. “I bet what I picked out for you is better, anyway.”

“Well, you should’ve bet on that then,” Adam retorted, shooting him a teasing glance over his shoulder. “Though I think I’ll win that too.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Ronan said joyfully as he leaned back and started haphazardly tossing his things onto the belt behind Adam’s.

They each paid for their own baskets before heading back out to the car, hand in hand. Adam was in a significantly better mood than when he’d gone into the store – this challenge had felt exactly like something they would’ve done together when they’d first met. It was just the kind of stupid boy thing that Adam secretly loved doing and secretly loved watching Ronan do. It felt like them, and it was a relief.

“So, are we heading back to the Barns, or what?” Adam asked as he buckled in his seat belt.

Ronan switched on his pulsing EDM and revved out of the parking lot. “Nope, I told you – this is for a picnic.”

Adam’s mouth twitched into a smile. “How domestic.”

“You know, you’re a snarky little shit considering how close you came to losing today,” Ronan sniped.

Adam couldn’t help but laugh. “You could not possibly sound more bitter right now. Did you think you would win?”

“I honestly thought you would take so long worrying about prices that it’d be easy.”

Adam shoved him. “I’ve been doing that all my life – it takes no time at all now. I know the cheapest brands. When was the last time you looked at a price tag?”

Ronan curled his lip but didn’t answer. Adam took it as a win, rolled down his window, and settled back for the drive. As it was with most of their drives, he was content to let Ronan take them wherever his pounding emotions and music took him.

Today, though, he was purposeful in his wild turns, sure in his accelerations on the straights. It didn’t take long for Adam to find out why.

Ronan took him up into the mountains, climbing climbing, the engine purring under their feet and thighs, and pulled over at a lookout that Adam knew like the back of his hand. This was where the adventures started; this was where the magic happened. This was where Gansey had taken Blue on one of the first nights they’d went out together, as he’d told Adam later. This was where Adam and Ronan had gone when they’d first gotten back after shit went down, where they’d escaped to when everywhere they called home felt too suppressing and choked with memories. This was where they could see the entirety of Henrietta spread out before them, where they could see every star, where they could feel like kings.

This was one of the only places not tainted by bad memories.

It made sense Ronan had thought of this place. They’d needed to get away from the bad memories.

After haphazardly parking the car, Ronan threw himself out and went around back to grab their groceries. Adam settled himself on the hood of the BMW, lying back and watching as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

“Alright, Parrish, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Ronan said as he practically leaped onto the hood, nearly knocking Adam right off.

Adam pushed at him playfully before sinking into his side and grabbing his grocery bag. Ronan gestured for him to go first so Adam began taking out each item one by one. “Deli ham, potato salad, gouda and crackers, and, of course, IPA.”

“Not bad, Parrish, not bad,” Ronan said, licking his lips. Adam watched every second of it. “Alright, my turn: string cheese, ingredients for PB&J, black olives, Cheerios, and, of course—” Ronan pulled out a can and held it to Adam’s chest playfully, where it matched perfectly with his shirt, “—Coca fucking Cola.”

“…Okay, Lynch, I admit, that’s pretty damn good,” Adam said as he took the coke from Ronan. “I think we both won the selection category.”

“Whatever makes you feel better about yourself,” Ronan replied and popped his beer.

Adam stuck his tongue out at him and started digging into his meal. He had to admit, it had been fun picking out food that he thought Ronan would like, and it made him feel warm all over realizing that Ronan knew enough about him to know what he would like, too. Adam had always thought himself unknowable, but each moment he spent with Ronan made him feel just a little bit more known. He liked to think he was getting to know Ronan better each moment, too.

They ate dinner and cracked jokes and talked and kissed until the sun finally went down. Warm and happier than they had been in days, they laid back on the hood of the car, tangled up in each other as they watched the stars emerge, each one blinking to life slowly across the sky.

It was, as always, breathtaking.

“I actually had a lot of fun today,” Adam admitted after they’d laid there quietly for what felt like hours. He could feel Ronan’s heart beating hard where his deaf ear was pressed against his chest. “Thank you.”

Ronan hummed and kissed the top of his head. “I figured out what we are together, you know.”

Adam pushed himself up on his elbows to turn and look at him. “…Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Smirking, Ronan reached up to swipe his thumb across Adam’s cheek. “Little shits who want nothing more than to wreak havoc on the world.”

Adam laughed and leaned down to kiss him, enjoying the warmth of their bodies pressed together. Just then, he couldn’t remember why he’d ever been worried about them. They’d always fought, and they most likely would again, but it wouldn’t break them. After all, they’d already known who they were together; they’d known for years. They’d just needed a reminder. “I think we’re quite good at that, then.”

Ronan grinned, the light of the universe in his eyes, and ran his hands up Adam’s back. “Yeah, I think we are.”

[pnrrish]

♦ pynch :3c

♦ slow dancing

Uncomfortable heat and the clatter of too many voices swirl out the door as it opens, light from inside the conference hall spilling out onto the empty veranda in stark blocks of gold and almost-black on the cement. Adam doesn’t look up, only shifts his weight from one foot to the other; there’s enough glass in the French double doors that the difference between open and closed is minimal. He’s supposed to be schmoozing since Gansey had hinted at networking opportunities, despite that it’s just the graduation reception for this year’s crop of Aglionby seniors, but Adam just wishes he hadn’t left his jacket in the coat closet when he’d arrived. It’s either unusually cold for mid-May or he’s just having that much trouble getting warm.

“I thought I’d find you out here.”

Adam turns his head to see Ronan making his lazy way across the patio, thumbs in his pockets, cutting an impressive figure in the well-fitted charcoal-gray number Matthew had gently bullied him into wearing. He looks good in it–very good, in fact, and Adam has to turn back around to surreptitiously loosen his tie so that his suddenly-pounding heart doesn’t pop a button. Of course, Ronan doesn’t notice, just installs himself at the railing, close enough to bump shoulders and wall off a little of the night breeze.

Adam sighs and leans the side of his head against Ronan’s warm shoulder. “I needed some air. All that networking with fifteen-year-olds and their parents was giving me a migraine.”

Ronan barks a laugh, slips his arm around Adam’s waist and presses in close, burying his face in the cool skin of Adam’s neck and breathing deeply. Even though he can’t see it, he can imagine the face Ronan is pulling, that marriage of tolerant grimace and fond smile that he loves. “They love you,” Ronan says. “Best-looking salutatorian in Aglionby history. How many job offers did you get?”

Adam laughs and leans closer. “None. I got about six board members asking for yearly donations, though. I told them nobody’s getting anything until they take my shitty picture out of the brochure.”

“Serious?” Ronan huffs into Adam’s shirt collar, his smile poking through the fabric. “I would have paid good money to see the look on Pauls’ face.”

Andre Pauls, the decrepit and bad-tempered head of the Giving Society, would have very quietly had an aneurysm at the mildest of curses, so it’s with a wistful tone of regret that Adam says, “Well, I didn’t say ‘shitty’.”

“That’s real funny, Parrish. I didn’t think you were a wuss.”

The door glides open again and the dwindling chatter inside washes over them–it’s gotten late enough that most everyone has left in pursuit of sleep or a wilder party. Footsteps. A muttered oh, excuse me. The footsteps retreat; the door remains open. Grumbling, Ronan shucks his suit jacket and tosses it over one of the rusted wrought-iron lawn chairs, yanking at the knot of his tie.

How unfair, how that does nothing to ease the constriction in Adam’s chest.

“C’mere,” he says, tugging at Adam’s sleeve and pulling him close. He laces their fingers and buries his face in the crook of Adam’s neck, next to his right ear. Someone inside finds an acoustic guitar and starts plucking a skillful, if tone-deaf, rendition of some John Mayer song that Ronan groans at. But he sways to the music all the same.

I don’t think I wanna go to L.A. anymore; I won’t know what it’s like to land and not race to your door….

“I hate this song.” Adam smiles, leans more fully into Ronan’s warmth–he’s not listening to the music at all, just relishing the chance to be close. A chance he regretfully hasn’t had since Christmas—spring break had been a hectic maelstrom of internship interviews and service projects and twenty-page papers that left a total of zero time to go home—

(when had he started thinking of the Barns as home?)

—and so this light touch is more than enough for the moment, cheek to cheek, his fingers linked behind Ronan’s neck, Ronan’s hands settled on Adam’s hips, gently shifting weight from one foot to the other, not quite on the beat.

I’m gonna steer clear: I’d burn up in your atmosphere.

“Think you’re gonna be around much this summer?”

I’m gonna steer clear, ‘cause I’d die if I saw you, die if I didn’t see you there…so I don’t think I’m gonna go to L.A. anymore.

Adam really should have seen this question for what it was, but instead he answers without thinking. “Oh, I hope so. It’ll be tricky with the internship but I’ve got a couple weeks between that and my summer classes—”

His first hint that this conversation isn’t going the way he’d expected is Ronan’s wary interjection: “Summer classes?” This isn’t the first time they’ve talked about this. This isn’t even the first time Ronan’s given even the slightest hint that he might not be thrilled about the idea. Adam presses on, ignoring the sudden churning in his gut because if he can just explain one more time—

(The guitar stumbles drunkenly over a chord progression and skips a verse: Wherever I go, wherever you are, I’ll watch your life play out in pictures from afar….)

“Yeah,” he says, unable to keep a hint of annoyance from creeping into his voice. “The two summer classes that’ll take me a month and a half to finish. Seriously, Lynch, it’s like you haven’t heard a word I’ve said all year—”

“I heard the part where I get two weeks with you from now until Christmas—”

“You know Thanksgiving is a thing, right?”

“That’s two days, and I honestly don’t know why you’d bother when it would be so much cheaper to stay up in Philadelphia.”

“Because I want to? Because I miss you and I want to spend time with you?”

The second hint that this conversation isn’t going the way Adam expected is the barb laced in Ronan’s response:

“Why?”

The kid with the guitar has stopped playing and the conference hall is dark—and honestly, that’s probably for the best. With the party well and truly over, the only people privy to the argument are Adam and Ronan themselves.

“The hell do you mean, ‘why’?” Adam’s long crossed the line from bewildered and annoyed to pissed, not just at Ronan’s instant, overboiling hostility, but at all of this in general. The way Ronan gets moody and snappish the day before he has to leave. The way he answers every question with either deflection or unwarranted venom. The way he walks around like an explosive on a timer that’s steadily ticking down to an unknown deadline.

Like he thinks there’ll come a day when Adam decides there’s nothing in Henrietta worth coming back for.

Like he thinks it’s so inevitable that he might as well blow it all up now and save them both from wasting any more time.

When Ronan doesn’t answer, Adam keeps talking, his voice shaking and his hands numb with anger. It’s all he can do to scramble for the right words; if they’ve had this argument once, they’ve had it a hundred thousand times, and he keeps hoping he can find the magic combination that will make him finally understand.

“You really think I’d rather be in Pennsylvania right now? Where it starts snowing in September and traffic is always the shittiest and the only person I can have a normal conversation with is my eighty-year-old history professor?” His breath is growing shorter and shorter by the word, his fingers tremblingly clutched in Ronan’s shirt collar, his heart thudding painfully. Somewhere under his ribcage, an ache like roots is spreading, oily and deep. “If I keep doing summer classes, I–there’s a good chance of me graduating early. I’m not just thinking about tomorrow and next week. I’m thinking about in three years getting to come back and stay instead of doing this for one more year. I don’t want to stay up there. I want to come back home.” His throat catches on the last word, tripping over the h like a scratched disc, and he feels the burn of tears beginning to fall.

Ronan’s blinking owlishly, face full of understanding, silent only for a few moments.

“Oh, Adam,” he says softly. “Don’t cry. I’m not going anywhere.”

He can’t help it—his breath goes shuddery and deep and dry, groping dumbly for the air he’d almost been afraid he’d lose. Ronan’s hands are warm and soothing on his neck, thumbs swiping at cheekbones, forehead against forehead.

“You’re incredible,” Ronan murmurs. “Sometimes it’s hard to even look at you ‘cause I know you’re gonna do something amazing. And all I can think is, wow, I sure hope I get to watch it happen somehow. I wanna see where you go ‘cause it’s going to be fucking mind blowing.”

Adam is reminded, briefly, strangely, of the dreamlike summer before Penn: wandering the Barns for hours at a time, only working when he wanted, eating his fill, and Ronan a ghost in his own house for weeks, too insecure to start a real fight but too stubborn to try to talk it out. It had turned out to be nothing, but Ronan had made a similar confession the night before Adam left.

“You sure you don’t want to stay up on campus for Thanksgiving? That’s a lot of driving to only be down here for two days.”

“That’s stupid,” Adam said, rolling over to pull the blanket out from where it had fallen between the bed and the wall. “When would I see you?”

Ronan heaved a sigh. “I just figured you’d rather do anything except come back to Podunk Central.” His voice twinged, like it cost him a lot to admit. Adam went still, his arms still half tangled in the threadbare quilt.

“I’m coming back to you, dummy,” Adam said. He leaned across the pillow to pepper kisses along the expanse of Ronan’s mouth and cheek. “And I can’t wait.”

Finally, Ronan smiled.

“And what the hell,” Adam says now, “am I gonna do when I get there and you’re not with me?”

“Die, I guess,” Ronan says instantly, easily. “Since you always forget to eat.”

“Dickhead.”

Laughter shakes the azaleas in the blue shadows outside the veranda. Where the ache was, curling and twisting in his ribcage, now there’s only feather-lightness.

“Come on,” Adam whispers, sliding his hands into the back pockets of Ronan’s slacks and relishing the warmth. “I thought we were dancing.”

Ronan doesn’t answer, just smiles as he leans down to press their lips together. He hums tunelessly, and they spin lazily around the porch with the light off and the door open, and the cold night air stills at last.

[rewritingthestars]

Pt. 1 of that conman/leverage au that I told myself I’d write a year ago but never did whoops

When Adam had gone to sleep after one in the morning, he hadn't planned to wake up until at least noon. Now though, with the insistent buzzing and electric music in his ears, he realizes that won't be the case.

He groans into his pillow, denying the inevitability of fully waking up to the last second before sighing and blindly reaching out for the phone on his bedside table. A second groan comes from behind him, the arm around his waist tightening, and Adam has a few seconds of imagining violence upon the man before finally snatching the phone. "One of these days you're going to be the one to pick up your own goddamn phone." The man snorts, pulling Adam closer to nip at his shoulder. "Not fucking likely." Adam shoves his boyfriend but doesn’t resist as he's pulled closer. Adam sighs, and mumbles something about not being a secretary before pressing the answer button. "Whoever this is better have a good reason for callin' at four in the mornin'." The person on the other end is silent for a moment and Adam contemplates hanging up before a voice tentatively speaks, "Ronan?" The voice is familiar enough to make Adam pause, "No, Ronan's," The man in question takes this moment to suck on Adam's neck, "a bit preoccupied at the moment." Ronan bites his neck and Adam curses his taste in men, "I-I can take a message if you’d like?" The person on the other end is silent again before saying, "Adam?" Adam frowns, pushing Ronan off of him to sit up, "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name." Ronan glares at him. "It's Gansey." Adams paranoia washes away with surprise and amusement. "Gansey? Gansey the third?" Ronan finally seems interested in the conversation as he rips the phone out of Adam's hand. "'The fuck you want dick? I’m retired now, an honest man," Adam snorts, "you can't arrest me for not doing crime." Ronan rolls his eyes at whatever Gansey says, "Just tell me what you want asshole, you get most people are sleeping at this time right?" Ronan suddenly grins, "Richard Gansey the third, are you offering me a job?" Adam raises his eyebrows. Ronan looks back at him, absolutely gleeful. "So you're finally playing our side? And here I thought I'd never see the day." Ronan tilts his head in question. "Hold on a sec." He puts the phone to his chest and raises a brow at Adam. Adam scowls. "We're retired." "C'mon Parrish, one more job." Adam groans, "You always say that." Ronan pulls Adam hand to his mouth to place a gentle kiss, "I mean it this time, one more job. C'mon, I can't be the only one curious about how dick's gonna run a con." Adam pauses. Hes going to say yes. He always says yes to Ronan. Adam wonders when he became so predictable and sighs, "One more job." Ronan shoots a fist into the air in silent triumph as Adam rolls his eyes. Ronan says, "Yeah we're in, text me the details later, and when I say later I mean at a less fucking ungodly hour you insomniac fuck." And precedes to hang up and throw his phone across the room in typical Ronan fashion. Adam presses closer to him, curling his body around Ronan's so he can rest his head on Ronan's shoulder. "This is going to end terribly." Ronan wraps his arm around Adam and puts his hand on his head to play with Adam's hair.

"Probably, but it’ll be fun." Adam presses into his hand, "You and I have very different definitions of fun." Ronan snorts, "Yeah and your definition of fun is working yourself half to death and worrying about every molecule of life." Adam pokes him in the ribs, "And your idea of fun is self destruction and danger." Ronan takes Adam's hand to bring it to his mouth again, "Your point?" Adam sighs, "Just be careful. Please." "I'm always careful." "Ronan-" "I know, I know," Ronan kisses his fingers, "I promise to be careful. I swear I wont let it be like last time." Adam can feel himself settle, his being calm,"That's all I ask."

France is as enchanting and beautiful as it is dull and boring. Or maybe that’s just Blue. Standing on a balcony of a five star hotel in Paris should be a dream come true and yet all Blue can think of is the bad feeling that rots in her chest. Blue scowls. This is stupid, to feel so terrible in such a magical place. Blue had hoped that the otherworldly and towering atmosphere of France would calm her nerves but if anything it's worsened them. She suddenly feels homesick. A year and a half. That's how long Richard Gansey the Third had quit his job at Greenmantle Insurance. A year and a half of silence. If Blue didn’t have better sources she would suspect him dead. Blue wishes she didn’t care. Spent the last year trying to convince herself she didn't. She had thought once she'd be joyful for his downfall. Now it just leaves her sick to her stomach. Blue takes a long gulp of the glass of wine in her hand and pushes her feelings aside. She came here to enjoy herself, dammit, and that was what she was going to do. But oh of course, that is when the phone rang. Blue stares at her cellphone that lays vibrating violently on the glass table next to her before sighing and picking up. "Hello?" "Hello Jane." Blues heart skips a beat. "Gansey?" "Is there another that calls you Jane? I feel rather cheated now." Several feelings conjured themselves in her being, mixing together in an array of relief and joy and anger and irritation.

"Are you shitting me? Where the hell have you been you asshole, I was starting to think you were dead." Blue tries to hold on to the anger. It's easier to focus on that than the fluttery feeling in her chest that has replaced the bad one. "Its has been quite some time since we’ve last spoken I admit, when was it exactly, Belgium four years ago?" "Three. Hong Kong.”

"Ah, of course, the two million dollar sculpture you stole." Blue scoffs, "It can hardly be counted as stealing when your security is just a pin and a fingerprint scan." "The law says otherwise." "What do you care for the law, it's not like your working for it anymore." Blue huffs. "Well, actually Jane, I have something I wanted to ask you." Blue’s cheeks flush. Three years ago Blue and Richard Gansey the Third kissed. After 3 years of fighting and chasing the other, after 3 years of stolen art and crime, after 3 years of Gansey never catching her, he kissed her in Hong Kong. She never got answers for that, as she went to Romania right after, and Gansey disappeared not even two years later. Her voice is softer as she says, "What was it you wanted to ask me, Gansey?" "I have this job that I'm currently taking control of, and I am in need of a thief." Blue promptly hangs up on him. Three years. Three years, and that was what she was waiting for? Embarrassment fills her before its replaced with anger. What else should she have expected from Richard Gansey the Third? Her phone starts ringing again and she had half the mind to ignore it before sighing and picking it up. "I can not believe I've been hung up on twice in one afternoon-" "God, Gansey, don’t start." Blue takes a breath, "I'm in." "Oh well that's- I mean to say-" Blue rolls her eyes fondly, "Tell me what the job is, asshole, before I change my mind." Blue can already see the heartbreak she's going to feel when whatever this is is over. For some reason, it seems worth it right now as Gansey rambles in her ear as though he never left.

Henry blearily looks at his computer screen as his fingers dash across the keyboard. His vision is swaying, his hands are cramping, and there's a vague ache in his gut that says he missed dinner. All signs of at least eight hours of reading and rewriting code that he's been forcing himself to complete. Henry sighs as he finishes the last of it and the money is transferred into several different accounts.

On some level Henry knows he shouldn't be so disappointed. He's a million dollars richer and so are three charities involving hurt puppies, environment conservation, and abandoned children. But the rewarding aspect hacking used to give him is.. dulled.

It's just that everything is too easy. The thrill and excitement that had pushed him to rob nearly two thirds of all the corporations in the country has evaporated as his skill level got better. The heart of the matter is, he is just too good at what he does.

And it's so boring. To the point where it's starting to feel more like work than anything else.

Henry stretches out his aching bones, popping out the locks that have stiffened his joints the last few hours.

Henry is just about to get up, maybe get a cup of instant noodles and watch a few reruns of Firefly before heading to bed when his phone went off.

Henry has to move three dirty shirts and an old record to find his phone before hastily picking it up.

"Uh, hello?"

"Good evening. Would this be, by chance, Henry Cheng?"

Henry is already on his computer, trying to ping the location of the caller. "And if it is?"

"Ah, this would be a good time to introduce myself, no? My name is Richard Gansey the Third, and I believe I have a job for you, if you are interested?"

Henry pauses typing, slouches back in his chair, not bothering to stop the grin that's taking over his face. "Considered me very interested, Mr. Gansey the Third. Tell me, how has the city been treating you?"

There silence on the other end for a moment. "I suppose I should have expected that, from the world's greatest hacker. Did you trace the call that quickly?"

Henry laughs. "Are you kidding? I've had tabs on you since you nearly caught me. Good job, by the way, you're the only one who's gotten that close."

There's silence on the other line once more. "Pardon me, you've had tabs on me for two years?"

Henry just grins. "What's the job, Richard?"

"A gentleman has contracted me and the team I bring in for an information retrieval job."

Henry tries not to be disappointed. "Oh?"

"On Greenmantle Insurance."

"Oh." Henry says, smiling. "Only one more question then; when do you want me?"

[cc-kouga-blog]

These Are The Days 5/9

For @quietrook

On Halloween, Adam and his entryway buddies attended a costume party. They coordinated their costumes and went as the modern day version of the seven dwarves. Adam sent a pic of himself dressed in a blue shirt with the word ‘sleepy’ printed on the front. He had on a matching blue dwarf hat and a tight blue legging.

Ronan sent him a pic of Opal wearing red boot, red hat and blue raincoat. She was holding a small brown suitcase with PB OL scrawled in Sharpie.

‘And what’s your costume?’ Adam texted.

After 5 minutes of no reply, Adam sent another one.

‘Are you chickening out on me farmer boy?’

It took another 15 minutes but Ronan finally replied.

Adam had to hide in the bathroom for a while to deal with the hilarity of Ronan Lynch dressed in a white wife beater, red flannel shirt, dirty jeans, work boots, and sun hat while chewing on a piece of straw. He kept his face passive, but there was no mistaking the glint of mischief in his ice blue eyes.

‘Are you for real?’ Adam sent.

‘Just trying out my new uniform.’

Adam tried to muffle his laughter, but some still escaped and filled the small bathroom. He saved the pic to his ever growing collection and fired out one last text.

‘Don’t let her eat too many candies.’

Ronan’s reply was immediate.

‘No shit Parrish. I’ll eat the candies. She can have the wrappers.’

Adam chuckled and put his phone away. When he exited the bathroom, Lucas was giving him a weird look.

“Are you okay, man? You’re not high are you? I swear I could hear you laughing in there.”

Adam grinned and shrugged. “Nah. I’m good.”

***

During Thanksgiving break, Ronan and Opal drove to D.C while Adam took the train and joined them there. They stayed at Declan’s apartment. Ronan and Adam wasn’t one to celebrate Thanksgiving, but they were grateful at the chance to spend some time together. Matthew was ecstatic that he get to spend the holiday with both of his brothers.

Declan had to attend a dinner party and he invited Ronan and Adam along. Both refused, Ronan especially because there was no way he would spend a night in a stuffy suit talking about a bunch of nonsense with old people, when he could spend it cuddling with Adam. Matthew opted to stay home too. When Declan gave him a betrayed look, Matthew only shrugged.

“I live with you Dec, and we go to a dinner party almost every week. Ronan’s only here for a few days.”

Declan heaved a resigned sigh and went alone. He gave each of his brothers a hug, dropped a kiss on Opal’s blond hair and squeezed Adam’s shoulder.

“Happy Thanksgiving.” He threw over his shoulder before he closed the front door.

Ronan made them turkey sandwiches and two tubs of popcorn and Adam made hot chocolate with marshmallow. Opal helped Matthew carried the blankets from their rooms into the living room and made a very comfortable nest on the large sofa. Ronan pulled up an age appropriate movie, then they burrowed under the blankets. Opal was squished between Adam and Ronan, while Matthew rest against Ronan’s other side.

When Declan came home later, he found the four of them sleeping in a pile of humans, satyr and blankets with the TV still on. He turned it off, drew the blanket up over Matthew’s shoulder and Adam’s exposed feet. He looked at them fondly and went to his own bed.

The next morning he had to hide his sniggers into his pillow as several voices groaned and complained about neck crick (Adam), back pain (Ronan), cold ass (Matthew), and fucking hooves (all three).He heard shuffled steps and doors opened and closed. He figured everyone had woke up long enough to return to their respective beds. He would give them another hour of sleep before he start banging in the kitchen. He could use a lie in once in a while as well.

When the break was over, Adam, Ronan and Opal said their goodbyes to Declan and Matthew. The brothers and Opal hugged each other. Declan shook Adam’s hand and told him to call if he needed anything. Adam nodded and thanked him.

Then Ronan and Opal dropped Adam at the train station. They exchanged kisses before Adam stepped out of the car. Opal waved and Ronan shouted ‘Catch you later, runt.’ Adam smiled and waved back to Opal, then grinned and discreetly raised his middle finger toward Ronan. Ronan laughed and peeled off the curb. Adam had to rub his chest to ease the slight pain blooming there as he watched the BMW drove away. Then he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. This was okay. This was temporary. This would pass. They would be fine.

As he waited for the train, Adam’s phone beeped. He checked it and saw that Ronan had texted him.

‘Miss you already. Kick some ass there.’

Adam smiled and texted back.

‘Don’t drive and text Lynch.’

Once the train left the station, he sent another text.

‘Miss you and Opal too.’

Adam pocketed his phone and took out a book. They would be fine.

***

When Adam came home for Christmas break, they spent the nights squished together on the couch. Ronan did his modules and Adam read through his textbooks while Opal sat between them going through her ABC book.

Ronan had to stop himself from snorting at how domestic they all were, but when Adam caught his eyes and gave him that look, Ronan had no other choice but to lean in and kiss him. Adam’s resulting smile was gut wrenching in the best possible way. And maybe being domestic wasn’t so bad after all.

The Gangsey couldn’t come home, but a postcard arrived one week before Christmas. The postage stamp was from Ecuador. Ronan put it up on the fridge’s door, where many others had already resided. Adam had missed his friends. Sure, they exchanged the occasional texts and e-mail whenever the Gangsey had coverage, which wasn’t often, but it wasn’t the same. They managed to Skype during Christmas Eve though, and seeing his friend’s faces and hearing their voices loosened some knot in Adam’s chest. His friends were healthy and having fun. Adam couldn’t ask for more.

On the 25th, Declan and Matthew came for mass but left soon after because Declan had another one of his dinner party. He and Matthew left gifts for Opal and Adam with Ronan. Adam was surprised that the other Lynches even prepared one for him. He couldn’t remember ever celebrating Christmas, so he wasn’t really into the Christmas Spirit. He made note to bring something nice for them when he, Ronan and Opal drove up to D.C for New Year.

Declan’s gift was a Nook Color while Matthew’s gift was a green Nook cover. Adam was conflicted about receiving such gift, but Ronan had argued that it was rude to return a gift. Beside, it was actually something helpful to his studies, so Adam might as well use it. Adam grudgingly accepted it. He sent text to Declan and Matthew, thanking them for the gifts.

Opal got a dress and two sets of Joules welly boots. Opal loved the boots, but she didn’t care much about the dress. Ronan’s gifts were a pair of pitchfork and hoe cuff links and a small painting depicting St. Isidore and Maria, the patron saints for farmers. Ronan hang the painting above the mantel and chucked the cuff links to his bedside drawer.

Maura invited them for a ‘Holiday Lunch’, which turned out to be regular lunch but with more casserole than usual. Dean was nowhere in sight so Ronan only had to put up with Orla’s flirting and Calla’s ribbing. Opal was sitting with Blue’s little cousins and Adam shared stories of his college life so far with Jimi and Maura. All in all, it was a nice lunch. Maura sent them home with a cheery wave and several containers of leftover.

After dinner, Adam whipped out two leather bracelets. He put one on Opal so she can have something to wear beside Adam’s old watch, which surprisingly survived all her adventures.

“Catch!” He said as he threw the bracelet at Ronan.

Ronan deftly plucked the flying bracelet mid air and snorted when he saw the initial R.L burned into the leather face.

“Aww, Ah-dum! You got me a present.” He drawled in fake Henrietta accent.

Adam only raised an eyebrow and leaned closer to whisper in Ronan’s ear.

“Sweetheart, I got you two presents.” Adam had lowered his voice and let his Henrietta accent rolled out, thick as molasses. “The other one is in the bedroom.”

Ronan’s back went rigid and his breath hitched. Adam gently blew and his hot breath caressed the shell of Ronan’s ear. Ronan shuddered and let out a string of curses under his breath. Adam smirked in satisfaction and got up from the couch they were lounging on.

“I’m gonna make some hot chocolate.” He announced to the room and made for the kitchen, not waiting for reply.

“You are a goddam fucking tease Parrish!” Ronan yelled after him.

“Language!” Adam yelled back.

Once Opal was tucked in bed, Adam led Ronan to their bedroom by the hand. Ronan pretended to be nonchalant, but his pink ears and neck told a whole different story.

“Lock the door behind you.” Adam said over his shoulder with honeyed voice.

Ronan was quick to obey. When he turned back to Adam, the other boy was sitting on top of the bed, grinning unabashedly. He had a present on his lap.

“Here’s your second present.” He said cheerily with no hint of a drawl anywhere.

Ronan stood there flabbergasted, this was so not what he had imagined.

“What the actual fuck Parrish? Are you fucking playing me?” He bit out.

“What do you mean, Ronan? I’m just trying to give you your present.” Adam tilted his head in blatant fake innocence.

Ronan visibly tried to gather himself. It took him several seconds to unclench his fist and jaw. Then with a heavy sigh he dragged his feet and sat beside Adam.

“You’re fucking horrible.” He muttered dejectedly.

Adam plopped the present on Ronan’s lap. “Open it.”

Ronan gave him a dirty glare and tore the paper wrap viciously. Inside was a plain box. He lifted the lid and had to bit his lip to stop from smiling. He ran his finger over the black leather jacket reverently.

“Try it on.” Adam prompted.

Ronan scoffed. “I’m not your Barbie doll.” Then proceeded to stand up and put on the jacket.

The jacket fit him perfectly. Ronan didn’t catch the label, but he knew good quality when he wore one. He almost made a comment about how much it must have cost, but managed to stop himself from making that mistake. Instead he twirled around, modeling the jacket for Adam.

“So?” He finished turning and caught Adam’s eyes.

Adam had a lazy smile on and his eyes were half mast. Ronan felt something twisted low in his belly. It turned into a ball of want when Adam rose from the bed and stalked toward him.

“Perfect.” Adam purred. “Now let me take it off of you.”

Suffice to say, Ronan got yet another present that night.

Though to be fair, when Adam woke the next morning, there was a new watch on his bedside table, along with a matching belt.

***

Two days after Christmas, Ronan drove them to D.C for New Year. The traffic was a nightmare and the two hours journey stretched into five and half hours of torture.

Ronan and Adam kissed when the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve, with Opal running circles around them.

[hausvonklaus]

It’ll Get Easier

After a particularly nasty fight with Ronan, Adam finds himself standing alone in his tiny apartment.

His hands are shaking with the effort to not turn around and go back to the Barns, and he almost wants to laugh at how afraid he is of this new thing between them coming to an end. It’s unreasonable to think that way, really. Adam knows they both care about each other too much to let a fight be the reason they call it quits. Their friendship has always been filled with arguments, some stupid and some not; and despite that, Ronan had still chosen him. On the small bed of his childhood bedroom, with a kiss as confession, he’d chosen Adam.

Thinking about it, it seems silly to angst over something so rooted into their relationship. But Adam knows firsthand that logic doesn’t always win out against fear and doubt. He could reason with himself for hours and still come out with the same ache in his stomach and throbbing behind his temples.

Adam worries his bottom lip between his teeth and heads to the small bathroom in the corner of his room, feeling nausea roil in his belly. A memory suddenly creeps into his mind: Blue balancing a pencil on her nose, brows knitted in concentration.

“I didn’t know how to help,” Blue-from-his-memory says, in regards to someone from her class. “I don’t drink or smoke or whatever. When I’m really stressed about something, I usually soak in the tub. Don’t you laugh at me, Adam Parrish, or I’ll sick Calla on you.“

Adam glances at his bathtub. It’s the claw-foot kind, average-sized with a little rust around the drain, but he knows it should work just fine. He strips himself of his clothing and turns the squeaky knobs until hot water begins pouring out of the spout, then slips in with a long sigh. He shifts around until he finds a position that’s comfortable for his legs, leans his head back against the wall, and closes his eyes.

His mood improves a bit when he imagines telling Blue about this, but then he thinks of Ronan.

He thinks of Ronan with his hands deep in his pockets and shoulders hunched cautiously, Ronan cursing up a storm and slamming doors, Ronan walking away and ignoring Adam’s pleas for him to stay.

Once the tub is filled, Adam turns off the water with his foot.

He’s sure the entire point of doing this is to relax, so he tries to envision something pleasant. It’s not difficult to do, there’s always been more good times than bad between him and Ronan, and already Adam feels tension seeping from his muscles and into the steaming water around him.

He thinks of Ronan talking with his mouth full during a dinner with Declan and Matthew, Ronan laying Opal down for bed and reading a passage from a book on maintaining perennials, Ronan picking him up from work with an extra large cherry Slurpee for them to share, Ronan getting the words unguibus et rostro tattooed like a band around his bicep.

The fear that’s been gnawing at the back of Adam’s heels slips away into nothing. His stomach is no longer upset and his migraine has dulled into a hardly noticeable ache. He could probably fall asleep like this, with a reel of happy memories playing across the backs of his eyelids, and finds that he wishes Ronan were here with him.

Adam startles when he hears the front door to his apartment open and close. There’s the familiar sound of Chainsaw flapping her wings, followed by slow and steady footsteps. Ronan normally stomps around like he’s got something to prove and it’s borderline obnoxious when he’s angry, so the fact that he’s trying to be quiet must mean he’s cooled off just as much as Adam has.

“I’m in here,” Adam calls out and leans forward to pull on the shower curtain. Only his shoulders, neck, and face should be visible, but he pulls his knees up to his chest just in case.

The bathroom door creaks open and Ronan peers in. Immediately, his face goes from weary to confused and critical. Adam’s almost positive Ronan’s thinking of the first time he’d given Opal a bath. There’d been a mess of water on the floor, a torn shower curtain, knocked over shampoo bottles, and a cursing Ronan afterwards. Adam remembers laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t worry. I can clean up after myself if I make a mess,” Adam can’t help but smile gleefully.

Ronan returns the smile, albeit hesitantly.

“I don’t doubt that one bit, Parrish,” he snorts while rubbing at the nape of his neck awkwardly. He glances at Adam, then moves to sit Indian style on the floor beside the tub.

There’s a long stretch of silence where neither of them say a thing, the only sound in the room being the sputtering bathroom fan above the toilet. Ronan’s not making eye contact and he looks like he’s fighting some internal battle, which Adam understands all too well. They’re similar animals, the two of them. Adam feels a rush of affection for this boy in front of him, warm and assuring.

“One day,” Adam gathers his thoughts, “apologizing will become easier. For the both of us.”

Ronan’s striking blue eyes flit to his and Adam continues:

“You said some ignorant shit back there, Lynch. Honestly, think before you open your mouth. But I– the way I reacted wasn’t much better, so I want you to know that I’m sorry.”

Adam holds his hand out in the space between the shower curtain and paint-chipped wall, fingers curling into a fist. The expression that crosses Ronan’s face is pure adoration as he taps his own fist against his boyfriend’s, then wraps his hand around a tan wrist and tugs. Adam leans forward willingly, meeting Ronan’s mouth with his own. The kiss is chaste and sweet, an apology in its own way.

Ronan is the first to pull away, but only barely.

“Me paenitet,” he breathes against Adam’s jaw.

Adam bites his lip to stop his laughter.

“I suppose Latin is better than nothing,” he swoops in for another kiss, fingers ghosting along the tattoo that peaks from beneath Ronan’s shirt collar.

“Adam,” Ronan nips at Adam’s bottom lip. “As much as I enjoy swapping spit with you, I’m fucking uncomfortable. So before I get a charlie horse and embarrass myself, I’m going to get up and go find a movie to watch. Get your ass dressed.“

Ronan drops one final kiss to Adam’s lips before he pushes himself up and heads into the bedroom.

Standing, Adam unplugs the drain and grabs a folded towel from the back of his toilet, running it up and down his arms, torso, and legs. There’s a warm and pleasant buzz humming along his skin; and he’s wondering how he could’ve been so worried about their fight in the first place, when he hears Ronan on the other side of the wall:

“Don’t tell Parrish,” Ronan stage whispers, most likely to Chainsaw, “but I think I like him.”

This time, Adam doesn’t try to contain his laughter.