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Adam felt warm and bubbly and good. His head felt buzzy and light, like it hardly weighed a thing--if anything at all-- on his shoulders. He’d never felt his mind so still--was this what normal people’s brains worked? Only one train of thought at a time instead of the five or six that Adam usually had running in his?
It was the end of June, Adam and the gang were all high school graduates, school was off their shoulders (for now anyway), the air was warm and muggy but not oppressive like it usually was, the night sky outside of the Barns was sparkling with stars. Adam was surrounded by the people he cared about most, a large and brilliant bonfire blazing in front of them, and Adam was drunk for the first time in his life from three slices of vodka spiked watermelon.
“No one told me you could make alcohol so fun,” Adam whined, grabbing a fourth slice of watermelon and swaying on his feet. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? Why didn’t you guys tell me?”
Henry chuckled, taking a sip of the raspberry daiquiri Gansey had made a slew of for everyone.
“Honestly, I don’t think you would have believed us if we did, Golden Boy.”
Adam frowned and took another bite of his alcoholic watermelon. His bottom lip was pushed out, his brow furrowed, jaw moving up and down with his exaggerated (or perhaps a result of his drunken state) chewing, and watermelon juice dribbling down his chin and neck.
“Parrish, come here would you?” Ronan said, grabbing Adam’s free hand and dragging him towards him. “You’re getting watermelon all over yourself. You look like a goddamn toddler.”
“Well I guess you’ll just have to clean me up then, won’t you?” Adam slurred, giving Ronan a cheeky grin and a mischievous wiggle of his brows.
Blue and Henry burst out laughing, Ronan wrapped his arms around Adam’s middle and dragged him onto his lap, and Gansey turned bright red.
“You’re such a sloppy drunk, good god,” Ronan chuckled, dabbing at Adam’s chin with a napkin and lapping up on his neck with his tongue just to see Gansey blush harder.
Adam closed his eyes and leaned into Ronan’s kisses, humming contentedly and tossing his watermelon rind into the fire.
“No more watermelon or drinks that aren’t water for you,” Blue said from where she sat draped across her boyfriends’ laps, a daiquiri in one hand a s’more in the other.
Adam whipped his head around and gaped at her, his expression a hilarious mix of betrayal, surprise, and defiance.
“You can’t tell me what to do!” he cried. “Ronan,” he said, turning back to his boyfriend and wrapping his arms around his neck. “Tell Blue she can’t tell me what to do.”
Ronan smirked. “Maggot, you can’t tell Adam what to do,” Adam lifted his chin in triumph, smug smile firmly in place. “But, I can, and I agree with you wholeheartedly. Parrish, you’re cut off for the night.”
“What?” Adam’s face looked so heartbroken that Ronan felt guilty for wanting to laugh. “Why? Why don’t you want me to have fun?”
“Because I want you till still have fun tomorrow, which you won’t if you start throwing up and wake up with a massive hangover because your lightweight ass went too hard, too fast.”
Adam whined and turned so his back faced Ronan--though he apparently wasn’t put out enough to vacate Ronan’s lap. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed indignantly.
“You’re lucky I want to have sex with you later otherwise I’d do whatever the fuck I want.”
Henry and Blue were full on cackling now and Gansey looked absolutely traumatized.
“This is going to be the greatest thing that’s happened this summer,” Blue declared. “Drunk Adam horny as shit and unable to keep his mouth shut.”
Ronan was sure that if Adam wasn’t currently sucking on Ronan’s neck and trailing his hand up and down his chest that he’d have something to say about that. But, as it was, Adam was throwing himself all over Ronan and apparently too busy with that to care about Blue’s slander.
Quite frankly, Ronan wasn’t too bothered by it. But, he knew that Adam would be mortified once he was sober and remembered his behavior the night before, so he gently pried his drunk boyfriend off his neck (though not until he was sure there’d be a nice, purplish-red hickey blooming across his jugular) and turned him around so his back lay against Ronan’s chest, his head against his shoulder. Ronan drew his arms tightly around Adam’s waist to hold him in place (and as close as they could manage without struggling to breathe.)
“You’re a menace,” he mumbled into Adam’s good ear, pressing a chaste kiss to the shell.
“But, you love me,” Adam sighed, smacking his lips together a few times before saying. “Right?”
“Yeah,” Ronan assured him, smile pressed to Adam’s jaw. “I love you, you big dork.”
“God, you guys are disgusting,” Henry said. “Gansey, you’re the sensible one in this triad-- promise that you’ll never allow us to be that revolting in public.”
Gansey looked like he was about to say something, but he was distracted by the melody that Adam had begun to sing serenely where he sat on Ronan’s lap. Everyone’s attention was instantly on Adam as he crooned a soft, high song in a language none of them knew. His voice was surprisingly pleasant--raspy and untrained, but a raw and beautiful tone that soothed and drew you in.
“ Ho, ho what tay nay, ho, ho what tay nay, ho, ho what tay nay. Key oh kay nah, key oh kay nah… ” he sang, switching to English a little over halfway through. “ Oh, oh little one, oh, oh little one, oh, oh little one. Now go to sleep, now go to sleep… ”
“That was beautiful, Adam,” Gansey said, drawing the boy from his sleepy reveries. “What was it?”
“Oh,” Adam gasped. “Was I singin’?”
Ronan chuckled. “A little, yeah.”
Adam blushed. He didn’t usually let people hear him sing, especially not songs like that one.
“What was that song, Adam?” Blue prodded. “It sounded like a lullaby.”
Adam nodded, nuzzling his head into Ronan’s neck and closing his eyes.
“It was,” he sighed. “Momma used to sing it to me when I was real small, especially when dad had done a real number one me.”
The group silently agreed not to comment on the latter part of Adam’s explanation.
“What was that language?” Henry asked.
“ ‘M not really sure. Maybe Cheroenhaka? That’s the tribe momma’s from. She didn’t speak the language but granny and papa kinda did so, maybe that.”
“You never told me you were Native American,” Ronan said re-adjusting his arms around the other boy’s waist and staring at him in awe and wonder.
Adam shrugged and nuzzled closer.
“Half, just momma. Dad’s white as they come and I’m a lot more white passing so, I dunno. Doesn’t always feel like I am. Plus, momma never really shared a lot of the culture with me-- just small things like the lullabies and tribal dream catchers, some food dishes. Had more of it around before dad banned us from seeing granny and papa,” Adam shrugged again with a big yawn. “Liked it a lot when I was little but dad didn’t like feeling like we were excluding him.”
Ronan felt a jolt of anger shock through his body, a feeling deeply associated with Robert Parrish. He’d taken so many things from his son. Ronan thought he’d learned most of it over the last few months since he and Adam had started this thing they had together, but apparently, Robert Parrish would never stop surprising Ronan with the atrocities he’d inflicted on his family.
Ronan was so deeply in love with his heritage. He was so grateful to have been raised learning about and participating in his Gaelic culture. He hoped to raise any future children he may have to have the same love and appreciation that he had, to teach them as much as he could and learn even more with them. He couldn’t imagine anyone depriving someone of an experience, a gift, so incredible.
“You know, there’s a local Cheroenhaka and Nottoway tribe just an hour or so outside of Henrietta,” Henry said. “I’ve been to a few of their public Pow-wows and dance competitions--research project for a history class. Maybe we could all go together sometime before Ganseyman, Wendybird, and I start our grand world tour.”
Adam, despite his sleepy state, visibly brightened.
“I’d like that,” he murmured. “I think I’d really like that.”

JessJesstheBest Tue 14 Aug 2018 02:16AM UTC
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