Work Text:
It was honestly an accident, just pure divine intervention, wrong place wrong time type shit. Or right time, depending on how you looked at it. And because of Ronan’s impeccable timing and lack of manners, he was looking at everything Adam had to offer. He’d just come up to get Adam because the gang was going exploring and they were running late. But Ronan’s mind totally short circuited as he stood in the doorway frozen and Adam stood there, naked from head to toe- skin still red and a little steamy from the shower and (much to Ronan’s fortune), his towel was a clear four feet away.
“Ho-ly shit,” Ronan gaped and didn't even try to look away. He always thought of Adam as skinny, in his dated t shirts and worn Aglionby sweaters. But he could see plain as day that was a filthy cruel lie. Adam was all shoulders and back muscles that had to have been sculpted by hand during the Renaissance era. But his shoulders was speckled with the sun-kissed freckles that only country boys like him were blessed with. Adam wasn’t built like the juice junkies on the football team, but the features he was gifted with was evident of years spent performing gritty physical labor most Aglionby boys wouldn't fathom doing.
The tanned skin (courtesy of Henrietta’s cruel heat) did not match what Adam brought his hands to. Everything south of his hips (which had those infuriating indented cut lines) was all pale untouched skin. There was a sandy-colored line of hair extending from Adam’s belly button to underneath his hands that Ronan would have otherwise missed if his sensory vision wasn't going into shock.
“Fuck’s sake, Ronan!” Adam cried helplessly trying to cover himself, the gentle outlines of the muscles in his arms becoming incredibly noticeable. A beat passed and Adam nearly screamed. “Do you wanna get out any time soon?!”
This shook Ronan awake, as if he’d been in a trance. He removed his eyes from the parts of Adam no one had seen. He was going to make some crack about how there was nothing special about the bits Adam was failing at concealing, before he remembered that he didn’t lie. “Hurry up, asshole,” he snapped instead, turning on his heel and closing the door with a click.
Nothing ever made Ronan Lynch speechless. That was until he saw Adam in the most biblical sense and there was really no unseeing it. Thankfully, Gansey didn’t sense anything out of the ordinary when Ronan got back in the Pig, slamming the passenger side door just a bit too harshly. He made the mistake of catching Noah’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Noah, who made it seem as though he was grinning to himself, the way he did as if recalling a funny joke. But Ronan knew he knew what Ronan saw and how uncomfortable everyone was at the present moment so of course it was just so damn amusing - meanwhile Ronan was trying to conjure up the most horrific scenes of disgust in his head so that he may get through this afternoon without any pop ups (heh).
But then Adam got in the car beside Noah with his skin still flush and every frame came back to Ronan's mind in excruciatingly slow-motion replay. He wondered how fast they’d have to be driving if he wanted to roll himself into ongoing traffic.
It wasn’t just that Ronan had seen Adam in the flesh. It was that it was Ronan who saw him naked. And it’s not as if Adam was entirely a prude or shy about his body, it’s that it was Ronan of all people. He had that way of staring at you as if cataloging every single microscopic detail about you, just in case he needed to use it for some cruel insult later. Granted he’d definitely eased up within the last few months, but it still made Adam extremely uneasy and he couldn’t figure out why. He just kept remembering his predatory glare, that look in his eyes that made Adam made extremely aware of how naked he was and how alone they were.
And its not even as though Adam was entirely romantic, but he did sort of had the idea that if he ever was going to be naked in front of someone, they would be naked too. No, he’s got Ronan gawking at him as his first nude experience. Amazing.
In the days following the Great Nude Disaster, Adam found himself in two positions. Which honestly wasn’t as dirty as it sounded, when he reflected on it later on. Anyways, the first was when Ronan wasn’t staring at him. Wasn’t even looking in his general direction. He wondered if this is what Noah felt like in a crowded room where it was though everyone went out of their way not to see him. For days when they didn't hang out as a group, Ronan focused all his time and energy on Chainsaw or tennis or anything that didn’t have to do with being in the same room as Adam.
Adam was so close to being relieved, until the feeling of loss began to creep up his stomach. Ronan could be a severe prick when he wanted to, but there was something about that angry Celt of a boy that made Adam feel warm, weirdly at ease. And it’s not something he really noticed until Ronan was noticeably not around longer and longer.
And that began the second position Adam found himself wedged in. When Ronan did come back around. It was different because Adam felt himself under the head of a hungry gaze almost all the time now. School was the worst, especially in the classes where Ronan sat behind him and the hairs on the back of Adam’s neck stood at attention to let him know that Ronan was probably recalling the Incident.
Ronan’s sexuality didn’t surprise Adam, not after a while when he really thought about it and figured it out. Of course a boy as angry as Ronan was gay. No one that attractive and with as much female attention as Ronan got could willing choose to abstain from the girls who’d lay down in traffic just to get one of those rare smirks, if he wasn’t into them all. Not that Adam was thinking about Ronan being attractive or anything. But it really did make sense. What didn’t make sense was Ronan staring at Adam.
Adam didn’t honestly think that he was attractive to anybody. The girls around Henrietta typically went for two types. The clean cut boy you’d bring home to mom, a role Gansey could win Oscars for. Or Ronan, moody, tattooed, mysterious. They were rarities. Boys like Adam were country, boring, blended into the sort of world girls of Henrietta wanted to move on from as soon as they turned 18. Adam was the toy you left behind when you got the newer edition.
It was the third time in the last two weeks that Ronan “accidentally” knocked a fork off the table at Nino’s. Adam, sitting on the outer seat opposite of Ronan, was polite enough to pick it up for him. He said something about being clumsy and not to ask the waitresses for new silverware since he never uses it anyways. Though it was all white noise in Ronan’s ears when Adam bent over and out of the booth and he could see both the curve of his ass and the a small stretch of skin of his hip where his shirt had ridden up.
In church, Ronan had been told over and over that if he’d just open his heart, he’d feel God’s presence. During his childhood, he’d waited and thought he’d done enough to feel the overwhelming sense of joy at being one-with-the-Lord. Eventually and over time, he’d just given up. Turns out, all it took was seeing bits of Adam’s skin to make Ronan feel as though he’d been blessed personally by every angel in Catholic dogma.
Luckily, no one else had even caught on that anything was more tense than usual between Ronan and Adam. But per usual, Ronan’s attempt to seem disinterested and aloof made him seem predatory and this time he knew Adam was starting to catch on to whatever Ronan was trying to avoid. He was never very good at being subtle. Thankfully, Adam was always the polite one and hadn’t said anything about The Incident. Or maybe he was just shy. Or embarrassed. Or ashamed. Or any other foul word that always seemed so stupid for him to feel, but seemed to make perfect sense in that Adam Parrish head of his. Ronan just wanted to scrub his brain clean sometimes of all that icky shit. He knew Adam and knew he was better then everything Robert Parrish ingrained in his son's head to make him feel.
Ronan wasn’t proficient in fancy words or gestures. All he could do was sit across from that fucking beautiful boy who hated himself for no reason and think of all the ways he wanted to touch and be touched by him.
Admitting it finally to himself made him want to throw up all over the ridiculously large pizzas that crowded their booth.
He couldn’t say it to Adam though, in fact he never had a single plan of ever saying it. But there was one instance when Gansey was going on some excited tangent about Glendower in that way only Gansey could, where Ronan’s knee hit Adam’s. He jerked his knee back opened his mouth to apologize, but the words didn’t come out because Adam’s foot came back to rest against Ronan’s. They’d been staring at opposite points of the table, only focusing their vision twice as hard now because they could see each other clearly out of their peripheral vision, without actually having to look at each other.
Though looking at Adam was easy. It was easy to play footsie like a douche bag under the table. It was easy because it was still unsaid. He could still deny it. Once you unroll a roll of toilet paper, you can’t roll it back as perfect as it was before. You’ve just got a big mess on your hands and lots of regret.
Adam felt as though he was on fire. He was always feeling that way lately. Being stared at like a piece of meat ready to be pounced on, feeling judged, feeling that heat radiate off the closeness of Ronan. It was just too much. His soul felt suffocating, like he wanted to run away forever. But also there was this very sneaking suspicion that what might have been embarrassment might have been disguised thrill. Maybe. If he thought about those hard eyes and tight set jaw focusing- no honing in on him.
Adam was straight. Or at least mostly straight. Or maybe he was just lonely, so the idea of being desired caused those sticky nights of shame. That had to have been it. Because he liked girls, he loved girls. He’d never thought of boys, never had a reason to. Until Ronan began stroking his ankle against his very deliberately underneath that booth while the rest of Nino’s sped on around them. Adam bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood because the other alternative was to give into that burning sensation in his stomach and there was no explaining himself out of getting a full erection at the table during Glendower Discussion Hour. He was 87% sure Gansey had a rule against that.
That night (and for several nights after) he didn’t sleep because he acknowledged that his recent erections were in some way caused by Ronan Lynch and how could one sleep when they make this realization. The definition of Too Much.
He wanted to die. He was too tired to deal with dreams caused by and featuring Ronan Lynch. What he didn’t know was that currently, across town, said subject was in a similar predicament. Too wired to sleep and anxious to do anything about it.
Getting a day off from work was one of those single acts of miracles that made Adam believe in a higher power. Business at the auto shop was good for the week so Adam was told to go home because it was just too fucking hot. He could have argued about needing the money, but there was a smile and a nod involved which meant he might not have had to worry after all.
Even if it was a favor he didn't want to take, he couldn't deny that it felt like the inside of a dryer even in the shade. He didn't go back to St. Agnes' though because the idea of sitting in the shady humidity of the church was nauseating. Monmouth Manufacturing was the only other option.
Upon arriving, he climbed the steps with the sluggish desperation of a man dying of dehydration. Adam went directly inside without even knocking, which was truly out of character. He was hit immediately with an Arctic blast of cold air that took the wind out of him. Every inch of him that was drenched in sweat immediately cooled and chilled against his skin and it was the single most amazing feeling in the world. When he opened his eyes, he saw Ronan.
He saw most of Ronan. Boxer clad, shirtless and pantless, holding a box of popsicles. He was frozen in the hallway, facing the direction of his room as Adam was frozen in the doorway. The first thing Adam could focus on was the curve of Ronan’s back. His tattoo created a defining outline of muscle and shoulders. His boxers were sitting dangerously low on his hips in such a way Adam was sure they were about to fall if he took another step. And maybe he wanted them to.
“It’s fucking hot as shit,” Ronan then said breaking the incredibly obvious swell of silence. He tipped the box of popsicles for emphasis.
“Oh,” Adam shook his head like he was remembering the door was still open. “Yeah it is.”
What was he supposed to do now. Ronan wasn’t yelling for him to get out or running to his room to cover himself. Well, he wasn’t entirely naked. But Ronan wasn’t like him. He didn’t care what anyone thought so of course nudity or even semi nudity wouldn’t bother him. Adam showing up randomly just in time to see the blessed defining lines of Ronans’ hips was just pure chance. But it was like Ronan was expecting him; like finally Adam was catching up to the finish line. A ghost of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth as his jaw softened into amusement.
“Want one?” he said in a voice that made Adam internally react as though he’d asked him something extremely dangerous. Then he remembered the popsicles of advertised green apple, grape, banana, cherry, and blue raspberry flavors. Adam didn’t say anything, but kicked the door close with his heel and steadily crossed the distance to dig his hand into the box to fish out a cherry flavored.
“So is this gonna become a thing?” Ronan asked lazily. “Walking in on each other in various state of dress.”
Adam’s ears burst into flames. His entire body burst into flames. Was it too late to run away? Maybe Ronan hadn’t really seen him yet.
He wanted to say, “Do you want it to be?” like a seductive asshole. But all he could do was tear down the plastic and put his mouth around the sticky sweet phallic shaped tube of ice. Jesus fuck. He was not winning at this.
You’ve got to be fucking joking, Ronan’s mind was screaming when that asshole Adam started sucking on his popsicle like a trashy porn star. Who did he think he was anyways? Coming in here and being a billion kinds of sexy (and Ronan hated that word but there was no other to use). And of COURSE he’d choose cherry, the syrup making his lips wet and bright red and so fucking kissable.
And so fuck it. He did it. He kissed Adam. The box was smashed between them when Ronan gently took Adam’s bottom lip between his because it was cold and sweet and it was Adam. The juice of his own popsicle was already dripping down his forearm but who the fuck cares because what was first gentle force against his friend was now returned with the touch of tongue. It was electric and scary. Though kissing Adam was like laying face first in the cool grass of spring and Ronan decided that was his favorite feeling now. They stood there awkwardly for a minute, hands firmly away gripping the thin sticks of melting ice, when Adam pulled away. His eyes were closed and he brought his free hand to over them. He buried himself there, dipping his head down so that it was almost on Ronan’s shoulder.
“Okay,” he nodded with an edge of a groan in his voice. Like admitting defeat.
Ronan’s face was burning. “Okay what.” They were still close and Adam was smiling instead of being offended but there was still plenty of opportunity for Adam to turn this against him because why wouldn’t he.
Adam rubbed his cheek and sucked in a breath as if he was making a decision. He looked at Ronan with those soft eyes and said, “This… okay.”
“You gotta speak up, Parrish,” Ronan shrugged knowing damn well what Adam meant and was trying really hard not to jump him right there.
Adam laughed and rolled his eyes, playfully tapping Ronan’s face with his popcicle. “Asshole.” There was no heat in his voice and it was the most affection he’d ever displayed to another person. Ronan groaned at the icy contact and pushed Adam in the shoulder and grumbled, “You fucker.” He brought the back of his hand to wipe the juice away from his cheek
“So I think its only fair to ask,” Adam said so quiet, as if the words only existed in the space between them. “Liked what you saw?”
Adam was feeling bolder than he ever thought conceivable. He was taking it a second at a time, gauging Ronan’s reaction and wanting so much more. Color in Ronan’s chest was beginning to bloom and a horrible thought creeped in Adam’s mind, that at some time before the sun set over Henrietta, he’d taste Ronan's skin. And it wasn’t just those filthy images that he got out of boredom or seeing something erotic, which automatically spurred unrequited erotic images. This was real. Ronan was real. And Ronan was staring at Adam like he wanted the exact same thing.
So he kissed Ronan again because he wanted to and he could. Kissing Ronan Lynch was that first drop from a roller coaster. Your heart drops to your stomach and everything else is just noise in your ears and you’re scared. But it passes in a second and you’re left with this thrilling skin-chilling adreneline, a heart beating out of your chest, and knowing its a dangerous situation, but you’re safe. Kissing Ronan was as dangerous as it was safe and Adam fucking loved it. He was chasing that thrill because he’d never had it before and of all the complicated bullshit that’s congested his life, this was the simplest complicated thing.
“You’re wearing too many clothes, Adam,” Ronan purred against his mouth.
“Yeah?” Adam rested his forehead against Ronan’s. “So are you.”