Chapter Text
The bar that Ronan brought him to wasn’t one of the few that Adam knew about – the ones that he passed when running errands, or on the way to work – sort of out of the way of the more populated parts of the city, but not to the point where the bar was desolate.
They easily found a table without having to search more than a few seconds, toward the back and just under a window. Private, but not intimidatingly so. An ideal first date table, if the rom-coms Blue had forced him into watching had taught him anything at all.
Now that they were here together, beers in front of them like they were normal friends getting a drink to relax after a long day's work, Adam suddenly started to feel tense. Like this wasn’t something Adam had been looking forward to all day because it was potentially the start of something Adam had never experienced before.
That was probably why he felt so intimidated. He’d never experienced a romantic connection before. Whatever it was that he had with Ronan was an entirely foreign concept – he had no idea how to act.
Adam laced his fingers loosely around the beer bottle, the condensation uncomfortably wet on his fingers, “How was your day?”
Ronan huffed out half a laugh, “Same as always. Can’t draw for shit, hands don’t seem to work. Y’know.”
Adam didn’t really know what it was like to have any sort of creative talent – any passion he had for that sort of thing was stomped out by his father’s rage when he was too young to remember, “I think what you were drawing the other day was pretty cool.”
Ronan’s cheeks flushed as he remembered the incident the other day, Adam’s stolen clothes and his figuring out of the houses’ intentions, “Something I’ve done before. Nothing new.”
Adam realised that he didn’t even know what Ronan did for a living. If he did anything at all; he was definitely rich enough that he didn’t actually have to work.
Adam was about to ask, but the music playing just slightly too loud overheard changed, and Ronan groaned out loud, like he was unable to help himself.
Adam frowned, cocking his head toward the speaker, so he could strain his good-ear to hear the song better. He was always shit with background noise, he missed it most of the time. He could make out strains of electric guitar, but he didn’t think he recognised the song, “What is it?”
“Fuckin’ Motley Crue.” Ronan hissed, like the words were offensive.
Adam recognised the band, at least. He thought Boyd would hum along to the songs in the autoshop when they came on the radio, “You don’t like rock?”
Ronan pointed the neck of his beer bottle accusatorily at the jukebox, “Rock is fine. I like rock. This isn’t rock. This is bullshit.”
Adam laughed, caught off guard by how truthful Ronan was. He knew, because everyone had told him, that Ronan never lied. But hearing second hand, and hearing it from the source itself was very different.
Ronan didn’t lie, not with his words, and his body language always betrayed him if he tried to omit the truth.
“Alright, then.” Adam challenged, “What isn’t bullshit? And don’t say that shitty electronica I can hear through the walls, because that isn’t even music.”
Ronan gasped, mock offended but with a snarl of a laugh on his cruel mouth, “You take that back.”
“Never.” Adam said, “I don’t know much about music, but I know that isn’t it.”
“What do you listen to, then?” Ronan asked, shooting him a fake glare. Adam didn’t realise he’d come to tell the difference between when Ronan was actually glaring at him and when he was doing it because he didn’t know what else to do with his face, “All high and mighty.”
Adam shrugged, “I don’t really listen to a lot of music. Too distracting.”
“You can’t call my taste in music bullshit if you don’t even listen to any!” Ronan pointed out, “We’re gonna change that, by the way.”
“Are we?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow and watching a light flush spread across Ronan’s cheeks, “Presumptuous.”
“I can’t let you walk around not knowing jack shit about music. Stuff’s fucking important and shit.” Ronan grumbled, taking a swig of his beer.
“If the radio is on I’ll turn it on to the classic rock station.”
Ronan groaned, “Oh, even worse.”
“Not everyone can listen to a wall of noise and call it a musical masterpiece.”
“But dad rock? Really?”
“It was always on at Boyd’s. That’s the, uh, the autoshop I worked for before I moved to DC.” Adam said, and scratched at the back of his neck. He kind of wished he’d never brought it up. It wasn’t the most flattering thing to bring up on a first date.
Ronan’s eyes darkened, “You were a mechanic?”
He never should have brought it up. He knew for a fact that Ronan had grown up with wealth – his work kept tabs on all of the active dreamers in the state, to protect them from the zealots that thought they were going to end the world and Adam, because he couldn’t help himself, had looked into him; Ronan had half a dozen arrests for misdemeanors in his teens and early twenties, and was labelled as a powerful dreamer, but not a threat – and reminding Ronan that they had not had the same upbringing wasn’t exactly the best conversation starter.
But, in the spirit of honesty, he said, “Yeah, in high school. It helped pay the bills.”
Ronan cocked his head to the side, “I can’t imagine you not being so… put together.”
Adam laughed. Like, properly laughed, head tipping back with the sound almost forced out of him.
Ronan raised his eyebrows, “I didn’t think it was that funny.”
“It’s just–” Adam struggled to vocalise why he’d found the statement so amusing, “ – the idea of anyone thinking that I’m ‘put-together’ is a little bit ridiculous to me.”
Ronan’s head was still on its side. He looked a bit like a curious dog and, somehow, it was rather endearing, “I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror lately, Parrish, but you seem a lot more put together than I am.”
“I don’t know.” Adam teased, “You’re a homeowner in your twenties. The millennial dream.”
Ronan snorted.
The jukebox clicked onto a new song, something Adam had heard over the speakers at the store. He nodded his head in the direction of the speakers, “What do you think about this one?”
Ronan levelled him with a flat, unimpressed look, “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not a pop fan, either?”
“Some pop can be good.” Ronan said, “Not this, though.”
“You’re pretty contrarian.” Adam informed him, taking a sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair, “You know that?”
“It’s been said.” Ronan said, “I think I’m just specific.”
“That’s one word for it.” Adam rolled his beer bottle between his hands, the cold condensation coating his fingers, “Do you really not listen to anything but electronica?”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with my music.”
“It literally rattles the walls of my apartment.” Adam said flatly. He was only being a little bit hyperbolic. He could hear when Ronan was listening to his music way too loudly, but only in the hallway. Monmouth had a good degree of sound insulation in the actual apartments themselves – or maybe it had just decided that he didn’t need to be subjected to Ronan’s music taste.
“That’s bullshit.”
They continued to argue over music taste, with Ronan arguing that Adam couldn’t have this many opinions if he didn’t even listen to music, and Adam arguing that he’d rather not hear any music in his life if the only other option was to listen to Ronan’s electronica for the rest of his life.
At some point, Adam went to get peanuts from the bar (because all he’d had was an abnormally filling lunch – he’d allowed himself a treat of going out for lunch because of what a good mood he’d been in at work that day – and they’d been at the bar for a couple rounds now and he was starting to get hungry) and he ended up tossing them into Ronan’s mouth.
The rate at which he failed was spectacular.
Adam let his head thump onto the desk, his entire body wracked with laughter, “How are you this bad?”
Ronan reached over and stole a peanut from Adam’s bowl. Adam allowed this, since the last five that had been thrown at his mouth had ended up on the floor, “Hey, it’s not my fault. You’re the one with the shit aim.”
“My aim is not shit.”
His aim was a bit shit. Ronan didn’t need to know that, though. Adam was pretty sure that Ronan could see through the blatant lie anyway.
“Give me another one. I’ll get it this time.”
Adam raised his eyebrows so Ronan would know his doubt, but picked up another peanut anyway and prepared to toss it, “You sure you can handle this?”
Ronan revealed his teeth in a sharp line, “I can handle you.”
That was not an answer to the question Adam had asked, but he steadfastly ignored the rising blush on his cheeks and instead threw the peanut at Ronan’s mouth, trying his best to keep his aim sharp and true.
Ronan caught it in his mouth and looked at Adam smugly as he chewed, “Told you.”
“Do you want a reward?”
Ronan’s grin was a wolf’s snarl, “Maybe.”
Adam felt his cheeks go hot, “Can you manage to do it again?”
They finished the peanuts, with most of them ending up on the floor, but Adam eating a healthy amount and Ronan managing to snag three from the air before gravity took its course.
After the peanuts and their beers were done, Ronan stretched his arms above his head until his shoulders clicked, “Wanna get takeout? You didn’t eat after work.”
For once in his life, Adam had been able to ignore the hunger pangs in his stomach. He was so used to them that they’d become second nature, but they were never something he was able to ignore like he had just now. He only remembered that he was hungry when Ronan suggested food.
He’d like to think that it was the two beers on an empty stomach that had made him forget but, realistically, he knew it was Ronan’s presence – warm and happy and so easy to talk to.
They didn’t really make sense as a pair, Adam knew that. But there was just something that kept drawing him in. Every time he made Ronan laugh or smile or bare all of his teeth in a sharp grin, a punch of adrenaline shot through his system. He felt high off it.
“Sure.” Adam said, draining his last mouthful of beer, “What’re you thinking?”
Ronan snagged his jacket off the back of his chair as they got ready to leave, “I know a good Chinese place a few blocks from Monmouth?”
Truthfully, Adam didn’t often indulge in take out meals. It wasn’t that his budget didn’t allow it because, after a couple months of working a well paying job made sure that he had enough disposable income to become comfortable, but old habits died hard and he wasn’t settled enough to be sure that he wasn’t going to lose his job and his apartment and have to live on only his savings. He’d only just managed to build the courage to order a new couch because Monmouth kept leaving threatening furniture catalogues for him to find.
But he’d already spent money on a round for him and Ronan, and he was supposed to be having a good night. Worrying about money wasn’t going to help that, so he had agreed to eating out.
It did mean that he didn’t know where to find good take out. Or what kind of take out he liked.
He didn’t particularly register where Ronan was taking him as they walked out of the bar, too busy chatting about the time Ronan had gotten lost in Central Park on a vacation to New York with his family and had ended up befriending the twins.
“Never fucking should’ve talked to them.” Ronan grumbled as he turned and pushed open a door, stepping aside to let Adam in first. He didn’t sound particularly put-out with his complaining, his fondness for the twins shining through, “Jordan’s engaged to my brother. It’s horrible."
Adam laughed, “What, you don’t think she’s good enough for him, or something?”
He’d never grown up with siblings, and didn’t know what it was like to be protective of them, but he couldn’t ever imagine not wanting someone to end up with Jordan. She was perfectly nice, a great listener, and an amazing artist, from what little Adam had seen of her work. In fact, he had been invited to an art showcase of hers next week.
“Other way around.” Ronan said, closing the door behind them and sealing them in a pocket of warm, fragrant air, “Jordan’s cool as hell. Declan’s a fucking loser.”
Adam studied the menu in the takeout spot with a frown. There were a lot of menu items, and a lot of them sounded nice, but there were things that he’d never tried, and things that were just names with no description, and in all honesty, he didn’t know what to get.
“What’s your order?” Ronan said, and then, before Adam could say anything, “Yeah, we can split it.”
Adam’s chest warmed a bit. He’d gotten some pushback from the other residents in Monmouth – a little bit from the twins and Noah, but mainly from Gansey; Blue was no trouble at all and completely understood his need to prove he could support himself – and it felt… weird for Ronan to not only already know, but not give him any trouble for it. Weird, but nice weird, like when Blue remembered that he preferred citrus flavours over chocolatey ones, and how Hennessy kept insisting that they could be Neo and Trinity from The Matrix for Halloween, because she knew it was one of the few films they’d watched at movie night that he’d liked, and how Gansey kept lending him books from his collection whenever Adam expressed interest in them.
Weird. Known, for the first time in his life. Sweet.
“I don’t know.” Adam answered honestly, “I don’t eat out much.”
Ronan’s lips curved into a smile, but he didn’t voice the vulgar joke Adam knew he was thinking, “You don’t?”
Adam smacked him lightly in the arm in reproach, despite the fact that Ronan hadn’t actually said anything, “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.” Adam accused, “I can see it on your face.”
“You’re no fun.” Ronan said, but it was light-hearted, a meaningless tease. The fact that he’d stayed out this long with Adam proved well enough that he thought Adam was plenty of fun. Ronan Lynch wasn’t exactly known for doing things that he didn’t want to do, “Do you want suggestions, or do you want to figure it out on your own?”
Adam let his pride war with his desire to have this date go well.
On one hand, he didn’t like handouts. He despised them, actually. Realistically, he knew that this was Ronan just seeing him out of his element and – gently, more gentle than Ronan usually was – offering him help so he knew what to do. But he couldn’t stop reading into the tone, making it sound a lot more condescending than it actually had.
He swallowed his pride down, though, and said, “Sure. What’s good here?”
“God, man, what isn’t good here.”
Ronan talked him through the menu, personal favourites of his, and what Gansey got, and the dish Henry got every time he ordered without fail, and what Noah ordered whenever he got the munchies.
Adam felt less like he was getting a tour of a menu, and more like he was getting a tour of his friends’ lives. His chest stayed warm.
They ended up getting a wide variety of foods, all stuff Ronan enjoyed, so that Adam could taste a bit of each and decide which ones he liked, and then Ronan could eat the rest.
It took a surprisingly short amount of time for the food to be prepared, and as they were making the short walk back to Monmouth Ronan told Adam the tale of the time Jordan had almost ripped Hennessy’s extensions out because she’d eaten her leftover dim sum.
It struck him, though, as they were climbing the stairs up to their shared floor and surely tainting the hallways with the smell of hot takeout, that they were very clearly going back to Ronan’s apartment after a – hopefully – successful date.
Nerves started clawing at the pit of his stomach,
If Ronan was feeling Adam’s same sense of abrupt awkwardness, he didn’t show it as he easily unlocked the door to his apartment, handing off the bags of food to Adam. “Sit down, I’ll be back in a minute.”
Adam looked around the space, which was unchanged from the last time he’d been in here – practically naked, that was – aside from minor things like a forgotten coffee cup left on a side table and a sketchbook left open on the couch.
He didn’t want to move any of Ronan’s things, so he sat himself down on the floor in front of the TV, setting the bag on the coffee table and starting to unpack the food.
Ronan returned with plates and utensils, and they started divvying out food. Ronan turned the TV on, but didn’t bother trying to find a middle ground on TV shows that they wanted to watch, “Give me a random number.”
Adam raised his eyebrows, “What for?”
“TV channel.”
“Alright.” Adam said, and plucked a random number out of his head, “Uh, twenty-three, I guess.”
Ronan flipped through channels until he landed on twenty-three, some cheesy reality TV program full of scantily-clad people with aggressively British accents now filling the screen.
“Jesus.” Adam said dryly, “Can I try again?”
Ronan laughed and threw the remote behind him onto the couch, “Let’s get you some food.”
The TV show wasn’t all that bad, actually. They mocked the accents as they ate, and Ronan got offended when Adam did a truly horrendous Irish accent. Their eyes had certainly been bigger than their stomach, though, because, by the time Adam felt full, they still had over half the food left.
Ronan leant his head back and groaned, “Shit, we’re gonna have to finish this tomorrow.”
Adam felt his stomach flutter a bit at the wording of that. We. Not a ‘take some leftovers for tomorrow’. It implied that they were going to eat together, again.
“I’ll help you clean.” Adam said. When Ronan looked like he was going to protest, Adam shot him a flat look.
“Fine.” Ronan sighed, “If you want to so fucking badly.”
After putting the leftover food in Ronan’s fridge, they divided the work so that Ronan was on washing and Adam was on drying.
“Is that fridge magnet a reference to Vergil?” Adam asked, jutting his head at a magnet that read: timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.
Ronan didn’t bother hiding his surprise, “You can't translate that?”
It was one of the most famous quotes of the Aeneid, but Adam understood what Ronan meant. Not everybody could glance at a fridge magnet and both translate it and identify which Roman epic it came from.
“I studied it.” Adam said, taking a plate from Ronan’s hands and drying it with the cloth in his hands. He corrected, “Well, I taught it to myself.”
“Dude.” Ronan said, “That’s fucking insane.”
It wasn’t like he’d had anything better to do with his time. He shrugged.
“My Latin teachers fucking sucked.” Ronan complained, “I mean, one got trampled to death, so that was a bummer, but he hated his job anyway, and he was a dick. And the other one hated my dad and took it out on me, so…”
Adam butted his shoulder against Ronan’s lightly, “I bet you were a menace in class.”
Ronan handed over the final handful of cutlery to Adam, and dried his hands on his jeans. He shot him a wicked smirk, “Meum tibi ostendam, si tuum mihi ostendas.”
Adam made a show of rolling his eyes over the crude joke, but he couldn’t deny the flash of heat that coursed through his body.
With the last of the drying done, he wiped his hands of water and leant against the counter.
It hit him, once again, that he and Ronan had just had an enjoyable first date, and now they were alone in Ronan’s apartment.
He didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t exactly a situation that he’d been in before, and no one that he’d talked to ever explained to him how to take the next step. There was no manual for him to follow in this situation.
The kitchen light frizzled slightly, his magic building inside him with all his nervous energy. He tamped down on it as much as he could. Ronan didn’t seem to notice.
“I, uh, still have your clothes at my place. From the other day.”
“Keep them.” Ronan said, voice sounding thick, “If you want.”
Adam swallowed down his nerves.
He needed to do something. They were both dancing around each other like they were training for the ballet. Even if it made him sick with nerves with want, he was going to do something. He’d spent so much of his life laying down and taking life as it was dealt to him; now that he’d started anew he endeavoured to try and do that as little as possible.
He took a step closer to Ronan. They were already standing so close that it was enough for the toes of their shoes to butt against each other – the hard line of Ronan’s boots and the soft soles of Adam’s years-old high-tops.
The blue of Ronan’s eyes was nearly swallowed whole by his pupils.
Ignoring the way his hand was definitely shaking a little bit, Adam slid his palm up Ronan’s shoulder to settle on the back of his neck.
And he waited.
He wanted Ronan to make the final move. It was his sentient house that was trying to get them together, after all.
They were so close Adam could hear the slight hitch in Ronan’s breath.
Voice low, like he was trying not to disturb the strange peace of the moment, Ronan said, “Can I kiss you?”
“Yeah.” Adam breathed.
Ronan’s hand slid across his back and pulled him in closer, and then his lips were on his.
Every fibre of Adam’s being felt like he was on fire. There had been something missing from his life before, some empty, hollow feeling in his chest that he’d never been able to put a name to. It seemed ridiculous that Ronan was the one to be able to fill that hole, but here he was.
The light above them was flickering. Adam didn’t care. If he concentrated on reeling his magic back in right now, he wouldn’t be able to think about the sensation of Ronan licking into his mouth with gentle sweeps of his tongue.
Feeling bold, Adam settled his free hand on Ronan’s hip, skimming across the taught line of his stomach until he could get a hand under his shirt, splaying his fingers across his stomach, the smoothness of his skin and soft down of the hair trailing from his naval. He scratched his nails lightly down his skin, pleased when Ronan shivered beneath him.
Ronan’s hands tightened on him, drawing him even closer even though there was very little space between them already – like he was trying to pull them so close together that they could meld into one.
Ronan was hot beneath him, and Adam hadn’t even realised that he’d pushed him into the counter until they hit the barrier of it and Ronan groaned into his mouth. His hips jerked against Adam’s, the hard outline of his cock pushing into Adam’s hip.
Adam could feel his heart in his throat.
He couldn’t second guess this stuff. He had to just go with it. There wasn’t a script to follow – he didn’t want to know what to do. He wanted to live in the moment, live here with Ronan hot under his hands, his mouth.
Adam dragged his hand down from Ronan’s abs to cup him over his jeans, squeezing lightly, the way he liked himself.
Ronan moaned, rough in the back of his throat, and let his head tilt back until it hit the kitchen cabinet behind him with a light thunk.
The movement had disconnected their mouths, so Adam took advantage of the moment and pressed his mouth to Ronan’s jugular, feeling his pulse fluttering like a bird heart under his lips, sucking a bruise onto the delicate skin there and keeping the pressure on Ronan’s dick in between them.
Ronan was panting, his hips moving in tight little circles, like he didn’t want to show his enthusiasm too much, like he was restraining himself.
Adam was determined to make him lose control.
The thing about magic, about working it with your hands and your eyes, was that it made someone very dexterous. It didn’t hurt that he’d been a mechanic for years, as well. All of that compiled into him easily undoing Ronan’s belt buckle with one hand, getting the button undone and fly unzipped enough that he could get his hands down Ronan’s boxers.
The noise Ronan made sounded like he was being strangled, “Fuck, Adam.”
Adam grinned against his throat, dragged his lips up to mouth at the hinge of his jaw, bit at his pierced earlobe.
The grip he had around Ronan’s cock was dry, and he knew that, but Ronan wasn’t complaining, was thrusting ever so slightly up into his hand. Still restrained, like he didn’t want to scare Adam off.
He kept mouthing at Ronan’s neck, and jacked Ronan off as best he could, listening to the different stutters in his breath, what made him moan louder and what made his hips jerk involuntarily.
He studied Ronan. It was a little bit clinical, maybe, but he wanted to make Ronan feel good. Adam liked how he sounded when Adam found the right tempo and the wetness of Ronan’s precum began to slick his way. Liked how Ronan went to kiss him but couldn’t stop moaning and ended up just kind of breathing hotly into Adam’s mouth.
They hadn’t even managed to get their shirts off when Ronan arched into Adam’s grip, one hand tightening on Adam’s shoulder. He bit down on the joint between Adam’s neck and shoulder, not hard enough to bruise but enough to make him shiver with lust, and his entire body went taut as he came, warm cum splattering against Adam’s hands and both of their shirts.
“God.” Ronan mumbled into his shoulder, “Jesus.”
“Just me.” Adam joked, and wiped his hand on the bottom of his shirt – it was going to need to be washed anyway.
“Just me.” Ronan said, like he’d just said something ridiculous, “Move back a bit. I need to suck you off or I might die.”
“Dramatic.” Adam said, but he moved back anyway.
Ronan knelt carefully on the hard kitchen tiles, hands immediately going to Adam’s belt. As soon as the zip was down, Adam exhaled in relief. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten he was hard – it was incredibly difficult to do that, especially when he had Ronan moaning sweetly in his ear – but he’d made no effort to actually relieve himself, wanting to prioritise Ronan more than himself.
Ronan wasted no time in getting his mouth on him, lapping at the head before sucking it into his mouth, bobbing his head down until Adam felt the head of his cock nudge the back of his throat.
“Jesus.” Adam swore, clutching the countertop above Ronan’s head so hard that his knuckles turned white. He was exerting all his energy into not thrusting into the hot wetness of Ronan’s mouth, “Fuck.”
Ronan made a little sound, somewhere between a laugh and a moan. The vibrations of it sent white-hot sparks up Adam’s spine, and he was unable to stop the automatic thrust of his hips.
“Shit.” Adam said, running one hand over the close-shorn buzz of Ronan’s hair, scratching his nails against his scalp, “Sorry.”
Ronan glanced up at him through slightly damp lashes, hands coming to settle on Adam’s hips, pulling him closer, further into his throat, which yielded around him, tight, and tight as he swallowed around him.
All the air in Adam’s lungs left him with a great exhale, “Fuck, Ronan.”
Ronan pressed forward even more, until his nose butted against Adam’s pelvic bone. He swallowed around Adam’s cock again, constricting it in a tight heat, and Adam’s vision went white with the pleasure of it all.
He had a hand cupped around the back of Ronan’s skull, not pushing him down but simply reminding both him and Ronan that he was there, that he could let up the moment he needed to.
Not that Ronan was showing any signs of stopping. In fact, he was trying to push himself even further down on Adam’s cock, like he was trying to choke himself. Or suck Adam’s brains out through his dick, which Adam was pretty sure he was close to achieving.
There was a pressure building at the base of Adam’s spine, more intense than he’d felt before. He hunched over, forearms braced against the kitchen counter – Jesus, they hadn’t even made it to bed – and panted out a warning, “Shit, fuck, I’m close. Ronan, I –”
Ronan moved his head back, but didn’t drop Adam from his mouth. He squeezed Adam’s hip, keeping his cheeks hollowed and sucking impossibly harder.
Adam’s vision whited out as he came, breaths ragged and moans being dragged up from the hollow of his chest. He felt his magic rise up in his veins, heard the faint sound of electricity crackling, but he paid it no mind. The ley line was the last thing on his mind right now. Not that he could think of anything. All there was was pleasure and the rushing of blood in his ears.
When his brain booted back online and the overstimulation became too much to handle, he patted Ronan gently on the side of his face, telling him to let up.
Ronan finally stopped sucking Adam off, sitting back on his haunches with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
Adam still couldn’t catch his breath. He gazed down at Ronan, “Hey.”
“Hi.” Ronan said, voice scratchy and fucked out, “Help me up?”
Adam stopped hunching over and offered his hands out to Ronan, who grabbed them and used them to haul himself to his feet.
They were still pressed close together. Adam used the back of his finger to wipe away the wetness that had collected on Ronan’s lashes.
The look Ronan gave him was so fond he nearly combusted right then and there. Before he could overthink it, he pressed a chaste, soft, close-mouthed kiss to Ronan’s lips, feeling Ronan smile into the action.
“Do you want to finish that show we started?” Ronan asked. There was an odd tone to his voice, like he wasn’t sure if Adam was just going to up and leave him or not.
“Yeah.” Adam said, lacing their fingers together, “I’m gonna need to throw my shirt in the wash, though.”
Ronan snorted, tugging at the hem of it, “Just throw it in the hamper in my room. Steal whatever you want.”
Adam grinned at him, and left Ronan to get the couch situated, stripping off his cum-stained shirt as he went to the bedroom, throwing it in the hamper Ronan had told him to, and then fishing another shirt out of a chest of drawers, darker than anything he owned himself, and with spidery lettering on it that he could barely read.
“Just reminded me–” Adam said as he went back into the living room, sitting heavily down on the couch and pressing himself into Ronan’s side, “-- I’ve still got your clothes at my place.”
Ronan turned so he could press his head to the dip of Adam’s collarbone, “Keep them. I like the idea of my clothes on your floor.”
Adam laughed and pressed his lips to the top of Ronan’s head.
They stayed that way for the rest of the evening, the shitty reality TV show playing on the TV in front of them, and both of them getting way too invested even though they said they wouldn’t.
When Adam’s eyes started closing of their own accord, Ronan led him to the bedroom and they slept easily in each other’s arms. The prickle of Ronan’s buzz cut against the bare skin of Adam’s chest was not nearly as uncomfortable as he thought it would be.
Adam woke up on his own, but the drifting scent of coffee told him Ronan wasn’t far.
“Morning.” Ronan said, when Adam eventually stumbled into the kitchen, already pressing a cup of coffee into his hands. Just the way Adam liked it.
Stupidly, he felt himself blush. Despite the fact that they now knew each other carnally, this for some reason felt far more intimate.
“Morning.” Adam said, pressing a tired kiss to Ronan’s cheek and gratefully gulping down a mouthful of coffee, wincing slightly when it burned the back of his throat.
Ronan leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Adam as he finished his cup, reaching out a hand so he could refill it.
Now that Adam was more awake, he clocked onto the fact that Ronan seemed to be wanting to ask him something. And what better time than now, with Adam in nothing but his boxers and Ronan’s shirt in the middle of his kitchen, having just woken up from sleeping in his arms all night?
“What’s up?” He asked, eyes scanning over the furrow of Ronan’s brows.
“Nothing gets past you, huh?” Ronan said, with a little laugh, “What are you doing tonight?”
Adam shrugged, “I hadn’t thought about it.”
Which was a lie. Adam always had his days planned out, even if that plan was just to clean up his apartment after meeting Blue for lunch, and then maybe looking at more furniture than just the couch he’d ordered the other day after saving up for a couple months.
Ronan arched his eyebrows at him, “Liar.”
Adam grimaced, “I’m supposed to grab lunch with Blue. But other than that, nothing that can’t be rearranged.”
Ronan studied him for a moment, and then nodded, seemingly appeased that this wasn’t another lie, “Do you want to go to a museum this afternoon?”
“As in…” Adam said, taking the second cup of coffee Ronan offered to him, “A second date.”
Ronan’s face was slightly red, “If you want.”
Adam set his coffee down and wrapped his arms around Ronan’s waist, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. It didn’t last long, Adam slightly insecure about his morning breath, but it seemed to make Ronan relax.
“I do want.” Adam said, watching Ronan’s face so he could see how much he meant it, “We could get dinner before? Or after?”
“After sounds good.” Ronan said, and returned Adam’s soft kiss. First to the mouth, and then to both of his cheeks, “We’ve still got that takeout to finish.”
Adam laughed, “Alright, alright. I need to shower before I meet Blue. You gonna throw a fit if I leave?”
“I don’t know how I’ll survive.” Ronan said dryly, and patted Adam on the hip, “You might wanna hurry up. It’s just past eleven.”
Adam finished his coffee and went to retrieve his clothes from the bedroom, leaving his spoiled shirt in Ronan’s hamper. Ronan caught him before he left the apartment, pressing him against the doorframe and kissing him languidly until Adam remembered the time and swatted him on the arm.
“I’ll see you in a few hours.” Adam laughed as he jokingly tried to wrestle out of Ronan’s hold. Ronan grinned against the side of his neck, nipping at the flesh under his ear, “You’ll live.”
“You should stay here.” Ronan mumbled, “Fuck Blue.”
“I’ll tell her you said that.” Adam threatened.
Begrudgingly, Ronan let Adam go. His apartment door didn’t close until Adam’s did.
His shower was quick, just making sure he was clean, and he silently thanked the house for letting him shower this time instead of forcing him back into Ronan’s arms. Maybe it would finally let up now that they were… closer to what it wanted them to be.
He debated changing clothes properly, but he couldn’t stop himself from shrugging back into Ronan’s shirt, hiding it with a loose sweater. He could still see the neckline of the shirt, and he knew Blue would immediately pick up on it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. There was a warm joy in his chest that was threatening to be let loose. The whole house was humming with it.
Adam didn’t have to go far to meet Blue, and he knocked on her and Gansey’s apartment door as soon as it struck noon.
“Punctual.” Blue said as soon as she opened the door. She then immediately squinted at his neck, before her eyes dropped to his chest. Her face split into a laviscous grin, “Adam Parrish.”
“Can I at least come inside before you start acting up?”
“Yeah, I bet that’s what you said last night.” Blue sniggered, and Adam felt his face getting hot.
Gansey was apparently out all day doing some research or another, and so Blue had the apartment all to herself. She folded herself onto the couch, slipper-covered feet tucked under her legs. She stared expectantly at Adam until he sat down. The whole apartment smelled of baking pastry.
“What are you making?” Adam asked, “Smells good.”
Blue flapped a dismissive hand through the air, “Chicken and bacon pie. Now stop trying to change the subject.”
“Change the subject?” Adam asked incredulously, “I’m literally here to have lunch.”
“And you have arrived here with a hickey and a shirt that isn’t yours.” Blue said, unable to hide her glee, “Spill.”
Adam pegged her with a flat look, “Were any of you going to tell me that Monmouth was trying to get me and Ronan to fuck, or were you just going to let me figure it out myself?”
“And figure it out yourself you did.” Blue said, which wasn’t an answer, “Look at you.”
Adam had checked the mirror before he’d left his apartment, and he hadn’t looked particularly worse for wear. Apart from the hickey that bore a striking resemblance to the shape of the state of Texas just by his jaw.
“We went on a date last night.” Adam relented.
“And?” Blue prompted.
“And we’re going on another one today.” Adam said, “Moving fast, I know.”
“Beats me and Gansey. It took him years of trying to win me over before I finally admitted to myself that I liked him as more than a friend.”
An idea occurred to Adam. He had a good few hours to spare before he had to meet up with Ronan again, and browsing furniture could wait (not for long, though; not having a couch was starting to get to him), “Hey, after lunch, do you want to help me get rid of the negative energy Ronan’s ex left in my apartment?”
Blue made an odd little cooing sound, “Aw, I thought you’d never ask.”