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happyandticklish · 28 days ago

Text

Not a Big Deal

Notes: Merry Christmas and a happy new year to @signinandgetkinky! I know I'm cutting it a bit close, but hopefully you enjoy what I've come up with. I tried to combine your prompts together into one fic, so there's a little bit of all of them in there. Thanks so much to @squealing-santa for hosting!

Summary: Adam is insistent he's not ticklish. Ronan is insistent that it doesn't matter.

Fandom: The Raven Cycle

Pairing: Ronan/Adam (Pynch)

Word Count: 2.2k

“Parrish. Parrish. Parrish.”

Adam’s brows twitched slightly, cursing the universe for putting him into this situation.

They had a flat tire. Approximately ten minutes into their trip to Cabeswater, there was a loud pop before the Pig had begun to veer toward the side of the road, clunking unevenly as it went. For all of the Camaro’s problems, Adam supposed he should have been grateful it was only a flat tire. Gansey and Blue were currently in the process of repairing it, most likely while, as had been the trend with them for the past few weeks, awkwardly and intensely flirting with one another. They had been trying to keep it on the down low, likely for Adam’s sake. In turn, he pretended he didn’t notice, allowing them to live out their hopeless charade.

Ronan had taken these past fifteen minutes to annoy him with pokes and prods and irritating questions that Adam had been halfheartedly answering up until the most recent one.

He turned more deliberately toward the window now, pretending as though Ronan was not there. Ignore it, and maybe it would go away.

Poke, poke, poke. “Parrish. Adam. There. Is that what you want?”

Or maybe not.

“What I want is for you to leave it alone.”

“It’s a fair question.”

“It’s an invasive question.”

In fairness, it was an invasive question. Not one that Adam necessarily minded sharing, but one that he did not want revealed when Blue and Gansey could get back into the vehicle at any moment.

“I’m ticklish.”

Ronan’s tone was so somber compared to the words coming out of his mouth that Adam couldn’t help but snort. “I’m so happy for you,” he deadpanned, though he quietly stored the information away for later.

“Tit for tat,” Ronan explained, leaning back in the vehicle as his gaze dragged up and down Adam’s person. Lately, Ronan looking at him had become such an intense process that Adam was worried he was seeing something Adam couldn’t. “I don’t see what’s so embarrassing about the question. I poked you. You flinched.”

“Poking tends to do that to people.”

“Not like what happened to you.”

Pink tinged Adam’s cheeks. If it was possible to squish himself further into the corner, he did so. “I was startled,” he said, after a moment of careful consideration.

Ronan squinted. “Are you saying you’re not ticklish?”

“Not necessarily, I’m just—”

“So you are ticklish?”

Adam floundered for a moment before eventually pressing his lips together and glancing in a totally not desperate way out to where Blue and Gansey were engaged in some kind of heated discussion. Not that their presence would necessarily deter anything Ronan was about to do.

Ronan watched him carefully, noting his tense stance. “Does the question bother you?”

Adam scoffed a laugh. When Ronan didn’t take the hint, he clarified, “Normally, when people ask the question, ‘are you ticklish’, it is followed by them tickling you regardless of your answer.”

“And you don’t want to be tickled?”

“Most people don’t want to be tickled.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Adam opened his mouth to answer, but before he had a chance, the two of them jumped as the car doors flung open. Blue whirled to face Adam, a grin on her face.

“Adam, we require your assistance.”

“We do not—I had it handled—”

Blue raised a brow as Gansey continued to fumble his sentences. After a moment, he turned reluctantly to Adam. “Adam, we require your assistance.”

Adam resisted the urge to comment on Gansey’s lack of real-world skillsets in favor of silent gratitude. He jumped out of the car, following Gansey and pointedly ignoring Ronan’s eyes on his back.

He had thought that was the end of it. But the topic of Adam’s ticklishness (or potential lack thereof) resurfaced months later at Monmouth Manufacturing during what was meant to be a study session between the three boys. Gansey was sat on the floor, a stack of books on either side of him with a mountain of paper scattered in front of him that he was perusing through. It was unclear whether the aim of his research was academics or Glendower related, and Adam hadn’t bothered to ask for fear of inciting some long-lasting rant that would quickly wile away their afternoon. He was curled up on the side of the couch reading about the Byzantian Empire for an upcoming assignment when Ronan decided to join them in the form of falling down on the couch and slinging his legs across Adam’s legs and on top of Adam’s book.

Gansey didn’t bother to glance up at his presence, but offered a vague hand raise in greeting. Adam yanked his book to freedom, raising an eyebrow in Ronan’s direction.

“Move.”

“Make me.” Ronan crossed his arms behind his head, settling comfortably into the couch.

The smirk on his face implied that he was in an impish mood that Adam frankly didn’t have time for. “You’re such a child. Gansey, can you please leash your dog?”

Ronan gnashed his teeth with a grin as Gansey wearily replied, “Trust me, Adam, if I had figured out that trick, I would have done so years ago. He’s your problem now.”

It was clear he was going to be getting no help at all. Adam sighed, shoving at Ronan’s legs to no avail. The struggle seemed to be just what Ronan was waiting for, and he took advantage of it to knock Adam’s book onto the ground. When Adam turned to face him, he merely stuck his tongue out, before closing his eyes with a pleased hum.

Adam didn’t mean to do it. He wasn’t even really sure where the instinct came from, only that he wanted to wipe that smug look off Ronan’s face. His fingers had barely brushed Ronan’s foot before he was nearly upended by the force of the latter jerking his leg back. They made eye contact for only a moment before Adam was leaping off the couch and hightailing it for… where, he couldn’t say, so long as it was away from there. Gansey’s apartment was built to foster open space, not to create good hiding spots for this soon to be dead man.

Ronan was after him in an instant, and Gansey let out a disgruntled noise as he knocked over his papers in his haste. “Ronan! Adam! I would appreciate it if you took it outside if you’re going to kill one another.”

Neither listened to him. Adam had barely made it more than ten feet before he was backed into a dead end. He turned around only to yelp when Ronan grabbed hold of his wrists, jerking them over his head and pressing him against the wall. Laughter, nervous and giddy, was spilling out of Adam already as he tugged desperately to free himself.

“Ronan, Ronan, please, don’t tickle me, I swear to god—"

“I guess now we’ll finally answer the question of whether the wallflower is ticklish or not.”

“I’m not, but don’t—Ronan!"

Ronan’s hand only just made contact with his sides, though even that touch alone was enough to send shivers coursing down Adam’s spine. He paused at the frantic nature to Adam’s tone. His hand retracted slightly as he considered him, taking in his flushed voice, wide eyes, and goofy grin. Then, to Adam’s surprise, he let go. Adam brought his arms down, relief flooding him first, followed quickly by confusion as Ronan shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked back over to the couch to bother Gansey about what they were having for dinner that night.

Adam could have sworn there was a faint pink tinge to Ronan’s ears as he walked away, though that could have been his imagination playing tricks on him.

Once Ronan and Adam started dating, it became much harder to evade queries about his sensitivity. But Ronan was unusually respectful about the issue. He never pushed as Adam made excuse after excuse, not even when too gentle of intimacy brought about twitches and huffs of barely concealed laughter. Nearly another year went by before Adam was forced to confront the issue once more. It was late December, and snow had finally graced Cambridge with its presence. Adam thought it was nice. There was something to having an excuse to stay curled up inside without having to worry about braving the company of his fellow classmates; he liked them well enough, but Adam was a creature of solitude at heart. Ronan, on the other hand, had far less charitable views toward the weather that had made the drive up to visit a living hell.

Now, the two of them lay curled up together on Adam’s bed, Adam’s head resting against the firmness of Ronan’s chest. The first several hours of the visit had consisted of far more affectionate behavior, but now they had settled into a comfortable rhythm of relaxation that Adam was loathe to leave. His shirt was rucked up in the back, and Ronan traced lazy circles over his lower back. At times, he strayed too close to his sides and Adam flinched unthinkingly. “Sorry. Your hands are cold.”

The touching paused, and Adam held back what would have been an embarrassing whine at its absence. “You can tell me if you’re ticklish, you know.”

Adam stiffened. “Okay. Thank you. I’m not though.”

Adam could practically feel Ronan rolling his eyes at him. “We’ve been dating for years now, I don’t understand why you still feel the need to hide the obvious. It’s not like I’m going to abuse the information or anything.”

“First of all, there is no obvious. Second of all, I highly doubt that. You’ve never showed the same consideration to Gansey.”

“Gansey likes it,” Ronan pointed out, before frowning. “Most of the time, anyways. Besides, do you really think I would do anything to you if you didn’t want me to?”

Adam hesitated. “Well. No, but—”

“I just don’t see why it’s such a big deal to you,” Ronan continued, ignoring his protests. “Everyone’s fucking ticklish. I’m ticklish. It’s human. It doesn’t imply something about you. Christ. Anyways. You don’t have to tell me, if it’s really important to you. But I’m not going to think less of you because you’re plagued by the same weakness as most of our population.”

He lapsed into silence after that, leaving Adam to stew in his words. He wasn’t wrong. Logically speaking, Adam knew that Ronan would probably leave him alone if he asked. There was no reason to be so cagey about such a simple piece of information, especially considering Ronan had likely already gathered the truth despite his protestations. If Adam really thought about it, which he was now thanks to Ronan, he wasn’t worried that he was going to tickle him.

He was worried that he wasn’t.

The two continued to lay in the quiet aftermath of Ronan’s words for several minutes. The tracing had started back up again at some point, but Adam couldn’t find the same contentment in it anymore. There was a growing itch beneath his skin, and he shifted uncomfortably, his body warm and prickly with embarrassment.

There’s no harm in asking.

“Ronan.”

“Adam.”

“I’m—well. I am. Ticklish, that is. Just a bit.”

A soft smile graced Ronan’s face, though Adam didn’t dare look up to notice. Ronan’s jacket was slung across the desk chair on the far end of the room and Adam focused all of his attentions on it instead, memorizing every minor crease instead of noticing how Ronan wasn’t saying anything. Finally—

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’m glad you told me. It seemed like it was weighing on you.”

“Oh. Good.” Adam’s grip tightened where it was wrapped around Ronan’s torso. Several more beats went by. The itch was growing worse, and his foot tapped a nervous rhythm against the end of the bed. “Can you—fuck. Fuck, this is ridiculous, why can’t I just—”

“Adam. I said it’s okay. All you have to say is yes or no.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat. “I—”

“Yes—” Rona’s fingers paused in their path right above Adam’s ribs— “Or no?”

It was quite possible that Adam had never been more grateful for Ronan’s bluntness than in that moment. He wasn’t sure he could get the words out, so he nodded instead. A moment later, he was biting his lip as fingers crawled treacherously under his arms, laughter bubbling up quickly in his throat. He buried his face in Ronan’s chest, ignoring the burning of his cheeks and focusing instead on how Ronan was being so gentle and light and yet, it tickled so much more than Adam could have possibly prepared for.

“Ronan!”

“Adam.”

How could a tone be so mocking and so affectionate all at once? “It tickles.”

Blunt nails spidered quickly near the edges of Adam’s arms, leaving him in a fit of giggles as he struggled to hold himself still.

“I know.”

As he laughed the rest of the night away, Adam found himself immensely grateful for the fact.

#tickle fic #the raven cycle #squealing santa #ronan lynch #adam parrish #pynch #trc #tickling #fanfiction #gansey #richard campbell gansey iii #blue sargent #ss24

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