"i'm your friend. you can talk to me about anything." for the prompt? Is it obvious I love friends to lovers? 😅 I hope writing the baking fic goes well! Excited for it whenever it happens, but no pressure! Take your time! 💕💕
Adam poured himself out of his car, barely pausing to close the door after him.
He didn’t bother to lock it—the lock was acting up and refusing to work, plus nobody in their right mind would look at Adam’s car and think stealing it would be worth the trouble, plus they were at the Barns.
Plus Adam only had twelve hours to spare so it wasn’t like he could go around wasting precious seconds.
He climbed the front porch stairs two at a time and had his fist to the faded-blue paint of the door before he’d even landed. He should’ve probably taken a shower and changed from his work clothes before coming here, but having a stop-over at St. Agnes had felt like a very dumb idea at the time.
Only it wasn’t dumb at all. It was what normal people did—you make yourself all pretty and shiny for your boyfriend so your boyfriend got necessarily smitten the moment he saw you and took you to bed immediately.
But Adam hadn’t been able to stand the thought of being away from Ronan one more minute, after not seeing him for four full days. And he hungry for Ronan’s gentle touches and looks. And maybe one bit too horny for his own good.
He knocked again. The porch lamp switched on, heavy steps approached the door. Something warm and sweet took hold of Adam’s belly, which wasn’t all that difficult considering all there was in there was excitement and whatever hadn’t been digested from the parched sandwich he’d had that morning for breakfast before school.
Adam barely allowed Ronan time to smile before he jumped him, his tired arms quickly finding their way around Ronan’s shoulders, his mouth easily pressing rapid kisses to Ronan’s cold shoulder, his working hear on the watch for any skip on Ronan’s breath that meant Adam was doing well in swooning his boyfriend.
The skip wasthere. Only it wasn’t quite right.
Adam’s arms were carefully put away at his sides again. He allowed himself to be guided inside, and he waited for a full minute of awkwardly standing in the hall before he asked: “Okay. What’s wrong?”
Ronan narrowed his eyes, as if his own awkward standing in front of the stairs, just looking at Adam, was totally normal and Adam was the one acting odd.
Ronan took a step towards Adam, until he was close enough to caress his cheek with the back of his hand. Which, okay. Tender. More emotional than Adam had been expecting, but. Yeah. They were boyfriendsnow. People who were in a relationship did sweet things for one another and it didn’t have to be weird. So why did Adam had this funny knot growing inside his throat now?
“Have you eaten?” Adam asked, fully knowing Ronan must have, because it was late, and he hadn’t been stuck at work forever like Adam had, and he could see a stack of shiny pots drying next to the kitchen sink from where he was standing.
Ronan’s head jerked in a nod. He didn’t ask if Adam himself had eaten. His eyes looked slightly reddish under the ceiling light.
Adam wondered when was the last time he’d slept.
He carefully took Ronan’s wrist and guided him upstairs, until they were both in front of Ronan’s unmade bed.
“Want to take me to bed so bad, uh, Parrish?” Ronan smirked.
Adam nodded, because it was the truth. Breathing came now a bit easier.
Ronan’s grin widened just before he kissed Adam’s mouth. Adam reflexively kissed him back, not at all put down by Ronan’s harsh biting to his lower lip—his brain needed a moment to recognize there was still something wrong, or rather not-right, and by then they were both tangled among sheets and Adam’s hand was halfway inside Ronan’s pants.
Ronan’s mouth chased after Adam’s when Adam pushed himself on his forearms to just lookat Ronan. Adam didn’t like the hopeless whine that escaped Ronan’s lips and for a moment had half a mind to just kiss them better and dismiss his stupid thoughts as paranoid, uninvited guests getting in the way between Ronan and him.
That wouldn’t do.
“Ronan,” he whispered. “Ronan, what’s wrong?”
Ronan closed his eyes, and for a second there he looked hurt, and sad, and some other things that broke Adam’s heart but reassured him that there was somethinggoing on, and that he wasn’t just irrationally rejecting Ronan.
All of it was gone when Ronan opened his eyes again.
“Nothing,” he said. “Let’s keep going.” He glared at Adam, hard, as if daring Adam to contradict him.
As if Adam had ever backed down from a challenge with Ronan Lynch.
He rolled over in place of rolling his eyes, and settled his head just next to Ronan’s on the pillow. He left one hand on Ronan’s chest, to remind him that he was there.
Ronan’s breathing peaked.
“What the fuck are you doing,” he growled, face up, hands forcefully gripping the sheets at his sides.
Adam very pointedly stayed where he was.
“Should I ask?” Adam said. “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me. I mean, I wanna know, obviously. I’m your friend, you can talk to me about anything.”
Ronan’s eyes widened. “You’re not my friend.”
Adam reminded himself to be patient, even if Ronan was being particularly stupid that night. “Yes, I am. What the fuck, Lynch. Of course we’re friends. You’re my best friend, you dumbshit. I want you to trust me enough to tell me your stuff. I’m not gonna laugh, or—” Adam paused, wondering if he should say the first thing that had come to his mind, figuring right after that he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t, “use it against you, or, like—”
“I fucking know that.”
“I also know you wanted me to get you off the moment you fucking walked through the door.”
Adam felt his cheeks burning. “So? You’re hot.”
Ronan snorted. “I was just trying to provide.”
Adam’s hand clutched hard at Ronan’s shirt, but that wasn’t enough, so he just rolled over until all of Ronan was circled inside his arms and his breathing was very close to Ronan’s ear.
“Yeah, well, you don’t get to do that. We’re not doing anything if one of us isn’t into it. That’s a rule.”
“Rules are bullshit.”
“Ronan. Ronan, look at me. I’ll keep coming to you even if we never kiss again.”
“Shut up. We’re kissing again. We’re kissing right now.” They were so close that Ronan barely had to move to press his lips to Adam’s. “New rule: kissing is super allowed. Fuckingly encouraged.”
Adam hummed. He agreed, and these kisses felt so good, and so right, and he kinda wanted to spend the whole night pressed like this to Ronan, but he was reminded by a sharp pang of pain that his stomach was probably on the way to eating itself.
“Can I make myself something to eat?” he asked.
Ronan cursed. Kissed Adam again. Followed him downstairs and reheated some leftover chicken for him.
Adam was busy putting food inside him and watching Ronan at the same time, so he almost didn’t catch Ronan’s words when he finally spoke.
“I’ve been having nightmares.”
Adam swallowed before he answered. “How bad?”
“Not night horrors. I didn’t bring out anything either, just—” he shrugged, all casual. Adam gripped his fork tighter. “You know. Nightmares.”
“About me?” Adam guessed.
Ronan shrugged again, his eyes fixed on the tiles above the toaster. “Sometimes.”
Adam nodded. He took another bite, thinking carefully of what he was going to say. “I also sleep better when you’re there.”
Ronan seemed surprised. “You always sleep like the fucking dead. So creepy.”
Adam snorted and shook his head. “No, not always.” There were nightmares, too. Anxiety and loneliness and cold drafts and headaches and eyes too tired that they refused to go to sleep. “You make it better, though.” He bit his lip, talked himself out of saying anything else, said it anyway. “You make lots of things better.”
Ronan’s small smile got bigger when Adam nodded solemnly. “Yeah.”
They were quiet until Adam finished his meal. “Come to bed with me?” Ronan asked, pressing his nose to Adam’s neck.
Adam found himself smiling as he was nudged back upstairs. They had maybe something more than ten hours now, but he felt all sated, both belly and heart full. Besides, he was already thinking of all the possibilities for when they both woke up in the morning, all rested and hungry again.
“You get all stupid when you don’t sleep,” Adam said. He yawned, as if his body wanted to prove a point.
“Yeah, yeah. And you get all wise.” Ronan didn’t let go of him as they both climbed into bed.
“I’m always wise,” Adam mumbled. He made himself comfortable against Ronan’s chest.
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Pre-canon pynch written for the prompt: You're adorable when you're mad.
The flush starts on his cheeks, just a tinge of pink coloring sun-kissed and speckled skin. It spreads the longer Adam goes on, along high cheekbones, back to where there is a single, stray freckle next to his temple. Sometimes, if Ronan thinks about that freckle in particular too hard, or for a moment too long, his stomach twists with a feeling he doesn't care to understand. So, Ronan doesn't. He takes that unfamiliar emotion and twists, turns it into the ones he's painfully intimate with. Frustration. Impatience. Spite.
"This is ridiculous," Adam spits out. He's been talking for a while now, but Ronan hasn't heard a single word. His attention is on the way Adam's blush has crawled to his ears now, all the way to the very slightly pointed tips of his ears. "It makes no sense whatsoever. I mean, how? Your grammar is terrible!"
Ronan's brows rise, suddenly interested in whatever it is he's clearly missed by zoning out. "Whoa there, Parrish," he says, vaguely gesturing with his hands. "Hold your horses, will you? I got no fucking clue why you're so pissed."
Adam lets out a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of his freckled nose. "Did you listen to a single thing I said?"
"Nope." Ronan tilts his chin up, bares his teeth in a smirk. Adam's blush darkens, from his cheeks up to his ears. "I tuned the fuck out, your squeaky runt voice hurts my ears."
"My—" Adam stops. The blush takes over his entire face, accentuated by his near translucent eyebrows furrowing and a downward turn of his odd-shaped mouth. "My voice isn't squeaky!"
Ronan winces, brings a hand up to his ear to pretend it hurts. "Oof, there it is again. Your voice is cracking, man. Did you finally hit puberty? A few years late, but hey, at least you're still ahead of Gansey, right?"
If Adam could get any redder, he probably would. As it is, he looks ready to snap, to scream, to lash out, or maybe just storm off and leave Ronan waiting for Gansey all alone. But he doesn't. Adam squares his shoulders, he straightens until he's very nearly the same height as Ronan now that he's no longer slouching forward.
"You're such an asshole, Lynch." Adam leans forward, not quite getting close but daring to. "I don't get why Gansey puts up with you."
The words should hurt, especially coming from Adam. Maybe they would, if Ronan didn't already know his place in Gansey's life, if Ronan wasn't certain no one could ever hate him the way he hates himself. Instead, it goads him on, makes him cock his head to the side, and his grin widens until it's sharpened like the tip of a knife.
"Y'know, Parrish, you're kinda cute when you're like this," Ronan says, off-handed.
He doesn't expect Adam's reaction, how his jaw clenches so tight a muscle visibly twitches there, how his entire posture coils tight. Adam doesn't scream, or lash out, or storm away because he doesn't have a chance. A voice interrupts him, Gansey calling out as he approaches the Pig with a backpack slung over his shoulder and his typical, presidential smile.
"Parrish, Lynch," Gansey looks between them, his smile dropping instantly. "Did I miss something? Are you two fighting again?"
"Yes," Adam replies right away.
"No," Ronan does too, at the exact same time. He barks out a laugh when Adam glares at him for it.
Gansey tries to look unphased, failing. "Right, well, is there anything I can do to help smooth it over?"
"No." Adam crosses his arms against his chest, rolls his eyes. Then, as if to prove a point, he goes, "Factum fieri infectum non potest."
It is impossible for a deed to be undone.
Ronan blinks. "Phormio?" he asks without much thought.
"Terence. Phormio is the play," Adam corrects, "Top in Latin should know that."
Adam doesn't seem quite so angry anymore. The flush has crept away from his ears, back towards the small freckle at his temple. Soon, it'll be gone even from there. Ronan eyes the spot, his stomach twisting with a feeling he refuses to put into thought. Maybe he'll be ready to name it, someday, but for now he likes this. Them. The three-headed Ronan-Gansey-Adam creature they have become, and he doesn't want to risk that.
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