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In all fairness, Ronan probably shouldn’t have hit him.
But hey, when is life ever fair? Sometimes life punches you in the face with no warning. Really, if you thought about it, Ronan had given that guy a life lesson he badly needed.
He rubbed his face and winced. Great, now his knuckles stung. Probably bleeding. He resisted kicking the brick building next to him; stubbing a toe would definitely not improve the night. He sighed and sank down on the curb. This weekend was turning out exactly as stellar as he had expected.
*
Several hours earlier…
It wasn’t the first time Ronan had been to Charlottesville, but it was the first time he had gone willingly. He had actually volunteered for this. Sometimes his own lack of judgment astounded even him. But, though he would never admit it to their faces, he really missed his two closest friends. Virginia Tech’s campus wasn’t actually that much farther than James Madison’s, especially considering how Ronan drove, but he felt light years away from both of them. Blue and Gansey traded visits nearly every weekend, while Ronan was alone with his cows in the southwest corner of the state. And yeah, they were in looove and all that crap. Blue and Gansey, that is. Not Ronan and the cows. But still. It wasn’t fair. So when Blue suggested crashing in Gansey’s dorm for a weekend group hang, he agreed embarrassingly quickly.
But his hopes for a weekend exactly like the ones the three of them had shared in Henrietta, filled with exploration and gelato and fast cars and slow cars and broken cars, weren't exactly panning out. He had somehow forgotten how gross Blue and Gansey became by the end of high school, and their new separation had clearly only made things worse. Take this shit, for instance. Gansey had been carrying Blue around on piggy-back all day, like he couldn’t bear to stop touching her for a single second. This was annoying on its own. Blue using her newfound height to flick Ronan in the ear every time he turned his back was worse.
They were trying to include him, sort of, but he still felt intrusive and unwelcome, like a third ball. He should have just paid for a hotel room. He had no idea what would be going on when the lights went out and he prayed to all the saints he could remember that it stayed that way.
Currently, they were on their way to a party thrown by some of Gansey’s “colleagues”. Ronan did not care enough to ask what exactly he meant by that. Everything was annoying him tonight, sure, but that phrase would annoy him on a good day. He was walking a foot behind them, partly to avoid Blue’s earflicks, and partly so he could sneak up and crumble leaf bits into her hair.
The building Gansey led them to, with its lily-white columns contrasting starkly with the red brick façade, was insufferably bougie. The shiny, confident people milling around the front, with their pastels and buttons and ribbons and collars, were even bougier. Everywhere he turned, there was a bowtie-sporting Tucker Carlson clone. He refused to admit that the look was…pretty much exactly Gansey’s style, too. But that obviously didn’t count. Gansey was a man unto himself, a wholly separate category from everyone else. Unlike Gansey, none of these Stepford Confederates deserved more than a cursory look. None of the rest of them could possibly have hidden depths. Gansey was the exception that proved the rule.
And why would he need to give anyone else a chance, anyways? He didn’t need new acquaintances. He certainly didn’t need new friends. Ronan was perfectly content placing everyone else at UVA into a box labeled “do not open: irredeemable asshole inside.”
Unfortunately, he had opened the box all by himself by agreeing to this stupid trip. And then again by agreeing to this stupid party.
Once inside, he quickly homed in on the keg sitting out on the patio. The sound system was blaring the poppier version of Wagon Wheel, and half of the masses were drunkenly singing along, and he was far too sober to deal with any of it. Christ, was that karaoke? He made a beeline for the French doors, ignoring Gansey’s call to “Ronan, wait up, would you!”
The kitchen he passed through held a collection of uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs that were probably old enough to have been owned by TJ himself. Were they partying in some sort of historical heritage site? He decided to spill a little bit of beer on every piece of furniture he could find. By the time Gansey and Blue caught up with him outside, he had already filled and drained a solo cup and was going back for seconds. He graciously filled their cups too, then gave up the tap to the next in line.
A heavy shoulder barreled into him as they squeezed back into the house. He was knocked sideways into one of the ancient chairs, and he felt it splinter beneath him.
“Watch it, asshole,” he snarled. The douchebag, clad in checkered Vineyard Vines, scoffed as he got a good look at the three of them.
“Who let Lilith Fair in here?” he asked, eyes roving over Blue’s crocheted dress and chunky boots.
“Same guy who let her security in. Fuck off,” Ronan said tersely, straightening up to his full 6’3” height and crossing his arms with as much menace as he could muster.
Doucheface sneered at him too, but apparently wasn’t drunk enough to try Ronan, so he let them pass with an exaggeratedly sarcastic bow and flourish of his hand. Ronan and Blue simultaneously flipped him off as they left.
The party did not improve with age. By the fourth time Ronan heard the opening strains to Wagon Wheel, he was ready to commit homicide. What was worse, the guy taking center stage at the karaoke machine was the same Martha’s Vineyard McFuckface from earlier. He was well on his way to blackout stage, and his voice sounded like Gansey’s car on its worst day.
Ronan snapped. He stalked over to the machine and yanked the plug out of the wall. The sound cut off abruptly, allowing the entire room to bear witness, audio included, to the scene that played out next.
“What the hell is your problem, man?” Fuckface snarled, getting in Ronan’s face. Well, almost. He was nearly a head shorter and swaying on his feet, so somehow Ronan didn’t find him particularly intimidating.
He tapped his chin in exaggerated thought. “Could be your astounding lack of variety? Have any of you people ever heard another song?”
Fuckface’s drunken gaze blearily found the leather bands at Ronan’s wrist, one of them clearly stamped with a VT.
He snorted. “Should have guessed. Only steers and queers at Tech, and you look gay as shit.”
Huh. Okay, then. Well, he did try to be good. For a while.
“Oh, dear,” Ronan heard Gansey say weakly from behind him.
He nodded, and then made a show of leering at Fuckface.
“That’s true. Why, you offering?”
“Eugh, what the hell, man? Get away from me, f—”
Ronan cut him off with a fist to the face.
*
“Are you still on grounds, at least?”
Ronan rolled his eyes to the heavens at Gansey’s Concerned Dad voice through the phone. No one was around to see it except God, but maybe He would appreciate Ronan’s justified exasperation and throw him a bone, or something.
“It’s campus, Dick, Jesus, don’t you start with that fucking lingo. Yes, I’m still on campus. I’m fine. You don’t have to chase after me like you’re my mother. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Alright, fine.”
The matter-of-fact tone cut through as clearly as the concerned one had. He was obviously well acquainted with Ronan’s moods. This did not make Ronan feel any better. Now he was guilty about ruining the party and that his anti-social behavior was apparently so typical that Gansey wasn’t even bothered by it.
God, he sucked as a best friend.
“Just, let me know if you’re feeling like you can be around people again without throwing punches,” Gansey continued. “Everyone is still pretty pissed off, but maybe if you wait a while, they won’t notice you come back in. There are some other first years I’d like you to meet.”
“Shut up, you’re fucking FRESHMEN, not first years. Ugh.” Ronan hung up, his huffiness back in full force. He wished he was on a landline so he could slam the receiver down. There were so many things to hate about cell phones, and not being able to underline the end of a conversation with an obnoxious loud noise was pretty high on the list.
He sank down onto the nearest curb and stretched his legs out, worrying at the bands around his wrist.
“You sound like you’re having a swell night,” a melodious voice wove through the darkness to assault Ronan’s ears. The accent had a far more local tinge than he had heard yet on campus. It sounded like home.
He looked up from his seat on the curb, drawn to the voice like a doomed sailor. In an instant he understood all those people in the Bible who were always getting struck dumb at the sight of angels appearing on high. The creature in front of him, backlit by the glow of the streetlight, was beautiful and startling in his scorn.
Talk about life punching you in the face with no warning.
“Are you really that mad about how people talk here?” Gabriel asked.
“Yes.”
When Ronan didn’t elaborate, he raised his eyebrows and started to turn away, probably to return to the clouds from whence he came.
“Oooh-kay, then. Sorry I asked. I’ll leave you to your mood.”
“No, you know what? I’m not done,” Ronan cut back in. If Blue wasn’t around to agree with him, and Gansey wasn’t around to pretend to listen to him, then this beautiful and unimpressed divine messenger would have to do.
“It’s just dumb as fuck! I can’t be blamed for this. Why can’t people just speak fuckin’ normal? I cannot deal with one single more pretentious fucknozzle tonight. If I hear any more references to ‘Mister Jefferson’, I’m gonna jump off the top of that fancy dome over there.”
“The Rotunda?”
“God, shut up. Fuck.”
Raphael pursed his lips in irritation. Or maybe like he was trying not to laugh.
“How many times are you gonna say fuck in this conversation?”
“At least once fucking more.”
Beautiful lips twisted, a smile nearly breaking through. Not irritation, then.
The evening had improved.
“So…you actually go here?” he asked in what he hoped was a less abrasive tone.
“Is that surprising?” Michael prickled again, as if the question annoyed him. “Am I not wearing enough seersucker for you?”
“Everyone, everywhere, is wearing entirely too much seersucker for me. No seersucker is too much seersucker. I want negative seersucker in the world.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Lucifer said. He sank down on the curb next to Ronan, close enough to feel his body heat tinge the air between them. Ronan wondered if it would burn to touch him. He couldn’t remember the Bible specifying. Jacob wrestled one and lived to tell the tale, so maybe he was safe.
The thought of wrestling the glowing boy next to him made his heart seize up. He swallowed.
“I’m Adam.”
Man, then. Not fallen angel. Ronan remained unconvinced, but he gave God props for the sense of humor, at least.
“Ronan.”
“I’m guessing you aren’t a student?”
“Here? Jesus, no. Tech.”
Adam nodded, like he understood. “Figures. Engineer? Or Ag?”
“Guess.”
Ronan felt eyes looking him up and down. Intently. “Farmer. Definitely.”
He grinned, sharp. “Animal science. Get to spend my days playing with horses and cows and shit.”
“Literal shit, I assume. Do you know the see-through cow?”
“Which one?”
“There’s more than one?” Adam looked delighted. What a weirdo. Ronan was utterly charmed.
“Oh yeah, we’ve got a whole heard of holey cows. Wanna see?”
He pulled out his phone to scroll through the photos. Adam had to lean closer to look at the offered screen. His hair smelled fresh and sharp, like peppermint. The scent cleared Ronan’s sinuses and kick-started his seizing heart all at once.
“This is Daisy, she’s my favorite.”
The picture he stopped on showed a large black and white dairy cow staring directly into the lens, looking supremely unimpressed. There was an unmistakable hole in her side, and an unmistakable Ronan grinning up at the camera, with his arm shoulder deep into the cow’s stomach through the opening.
“That is so gross!” Adam declared, grinning widely. Ronan, helpless, grinned back. He had to stop himself from blurting out you should come down and see her in person.
“If you’re into biology, why are you here? You can’t be one of those pretentious pre-law English majors.”
“Hey, you hicks aren’t the only people who are allowed to do science.”
Ronan snorted at being called a hick in that accent.
“We happen to have a top tier plant biology program here.” He shot Ronan a raised eyebrow as he continued, “A lot harder to get into than yours, too.”
Ronan flipped him off. “Bet you’re one of those freaks that actually liked O chem, aren’t you?”
Adam’s answering look was smug. “I’m an O chem lab TA this semester.”
“Jesus.”
They lapsed into brief silence. The tell-tale itching was beginning to prick back under Ronan’s skin. He stood up, needing all at once to be anywhere else. Adam didn’t move from the curb, so Ronan held out his hand in invitation.
“Come on, smart guy. Let’s go do something stupid.”
He looked up at Ronan, eyes narrowed shrewdly. Fuck, he wore that contempt so pretty.
“I’m not trying to get tossed in a cell with a stranger tonight. I have places to be.”
“And yet, you aren’t at them,” Ronan pointed out.
That received an eyeroll, but Adam let himself be pulled up anyways. His palm, rough and warm, dragged infinitely sweet against Ronan’s pulse point on his wrist. The itching under his skin turned to humming, tapping out little beats at every nerve ending.
“Yeah, sorta dreading this party I promised my roommate I’d go to. I’m delaying the inevitable.”
“Okay, so delay it a little more. Come on, entertain me. Just for a while. Show me what the hell there is to like about this godforsaken place. Give me a fucking campus tour, I don’t give a shit.”
They began to walk, Adam a step or two ahead of Ronan, leading the way.
“Alright. Here you see a statue of…who else…Thomas Jefferson, founder, patron, God Himself of our little university.”
“I wasn’t serious about that last part. I don’t actually want a tour.”
“Well luckily for you, I don’t understand sarcasm.”
He proceeded to give Ronan running commentary as they walked around the campus. Ronan had no idea if anything he was saying was actually true or if he was making it all up. It sounded real, but maybe the guy was just a really good liar.
They reached another statue. This was excessive, honestly. How many statues did one campus need, anyways? At least this one didn’t look like yet another Jefferson.
“Here’s Homer, who said you should be kind to strangers who travel across your lands. And his naked friend with a lyre. No idea what he said.”
"Like, Iliad Homer?”
“The gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. Yeah, that one.”
Ronan knew the rest of the quote: You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.
If that wasn’t a goddamn sign, he didn’t know what was.
“You’re an insufferable know-it-all,” he said, because I think I’m in love with you was a little strong.
Adam didn’t deny it.
“You know everything, is that it?”
“That’s about right.”
Let me not then die ingloriously and without a struggle.
“Do you know who Alfred Kinsey is?”
Adam burst out laughing.
“That is by far the smoothest way anyone has ever told me they’re interested in me.”
The dry tone cut through like a knife. Ronan really did not need to be told that he wasn’t smooth. He flushed, and only half from embarrassment. Sooner or later, he was going to need to do some real self-reflection on why exactly he got so hot for guys who were mean, especially to him, especially straight to his face. There were probably some deep-seated psychological issues there, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care at the moment.
“I didn’t say I was interested in you,” he retorted. Cool. Great comeback.
“Oh, of course. I bet you ask every strange dude you meet on the street after dark where he falls on the Kinsey scale. Solid three-point-five, by the way. Just, you know, your common or garden-variety bisexual.” Adam stared Ronan down and raised an eyebrow slightly. The quirk at the corner of his mouth made Ronan want to combust.
“Maybe I’m just making conversation.”
“Uh-huh. So, dazzle me with your conversation, then. Why else would you bring it up?”
Ronan stared at Adam, head gloriously empty.
“Because…fuck, you're beautiful.”
He huffed out a laugh, sounding disbelieving. “How drunk are you?”
“What, you don't think sober people would think you're beautiful?”
“I don't think they'd say it out loud. What if I was a homophobe?”
“Already had it out with one tonight.” Ronan assessed him. “Think I could take you.”
A wicked smile shadowed Adam’s face. “Is that so?”
Ronan’s heart beat a tattoo against his ribcage. They walked around the expansive lawn (what Adam had called the Lawn, Capital L) until they reached the Rotunda.
“Oh,” Adam said shortly, coming to a halt and holding out an arm to stop Ronan. “I know something stupid you can do.”
“Okay, I was joking about jumping off the dome.”
“No, not that. It’s just—there’s a tradition, here—”
“Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you guys and your goddamn traditions—”
“Nah, you’ll like this one. It’s incredibly asinine.”
“I feel like I should be offended by that.” Ronan considered. “Continue.”
“Before you graduate, you’re supposed to streak the Lawn.”
“That thing? You’re kidding. That’s, like, twice the size of a football field.”
“More, yeah. And you gotta kiss Homer at the other end and then streak back.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re just making that up, but I don’t know that I care either way.”
Adam’s blank expression gave nothing away. He added, “Some people say you’ve gotta kiss Homer’s ass.”
Ronan laughed. “Even dumber. I love it.”
He assessed the distance, took note of the temperature, clocked the number of people still milling around, heading home from libraries and study sessions or off to frat houses and bars.
“It’s still a little crowded. Shouldn’t this be, like, a middle-of-the-night activity? It’s barely eleven.”
Adam shrugged. There was a world of subtext in that shrug. Sounds like you’re a big fat chicken, those shoulders said.
“Are you sure you don’t just wanna see my dick?” Ronan asked. “Because there are easier ways to accomplish that.”
“I didn’t say I was interested in you,” Adam echoed Ronan’s earlier words with another twitch of his pretty mouth.
“Fine. Forget the Kinsey scale; we’ll make a new one. The Lynch scale of being attracted to Ronan Lynch. Come on, lay it on me.”
Ronan hadn’t really considered his word choice, so he was utterly blindsided by Adam’s lips on his.
The kiss was warm, and hungry, and over far too soon. Ronan reeled him back in by the scruff of his shirt and kissed him again. Adam made a deep, strangled noise in the back of his throat as Ronan slid their tongues together and gripped at his waist. He wanted to hear nothing but that sound for the rest of his life, Jesus God. His heart rap-rap-rapped at his chest.
“You’re taking this whole Homeric hospitality thing a little far,” he gasped out. “Not that I’m complaining. Please don’t stop.”
“Yeah, well, it might be nice to get a little divine favor if you do turn out to be a god in disguise.”
"That's ridiculous." If anyone had come down from Mount Olympus to grace the mortal world with his presence here, it was Adam.
Adam, who backed him up to press against a column. Who kissed him again, and again. Just as Ronan was considering suggesting they take the whole thing somewhere more private, Adam broke away.
“I can’t take you home,” he said suddenly, as if he had just remembered.
“Oh-kay,” Ronan said.
He didn’t mean to sound judgmental. He wasn’t about to be a pushy asshole. Adam’s reasons for not wanting to hook up were his own business. Disappointing, sure. But whatever. He’d live.
“Sorry, I just meant—not now. Remember that party? I did promise my roommate I’d show up.”
Ronan made a noise of frustration. Of all the horrible reasons he was being cock-blocked, yet another insufferable Wahoo party was the horriblest he could think of.
“Come with?” Adam suggested. He kissed Ronan again, slowly, and moved backward, slowly. Ronan was left drawing forward, entranced, chasing his lips.
Well, damn. Fucking Pied Piper-like asshole. He’d follow Adam anywhere.
“Lead the way.”
Ronan was so caught up in Adam’s web that he didn’t realize where they were until they had reached the steps. The upsettingly familiar steps, framed by white columns, leading up to a tidy red-brick house. An upsettingly familiar house.
“Shit. Wait—,” Ronan said hastily, holding out his arm to block Adam from going up the steps.
Adam looked at him, eyebrow cocked.
“I can’t go in there.”
“Why not?”
“I just got kicked out of there.”
Adam’s lips twitched. “For…?”
“Punching a karaoke singer.”
At this, Adam lost his composure. “Christ, you really are an asshole.”
“Whatever. The guy was a huge dick. He had it coming.”
Adam leaned deep into his personal space to whisper, “Thought you’d be into that.”
Ronan swallowed.
“Was,” he emphasized. “Not had.”
Adam kept looking at him. Ronan was on fire.
“Maybe I’ll just wait outside for you.”
“Aw, come on. You really going to start following rules now? Don’t just die ingloriously and without a struggle.” Fuck. Adam’s eyes sparkled as he dragged him by the wrist back into the house.
Naturally, as soon as they got through the door, Gansey bounded up to them. Great, now Ronan was going to need to explain himself and all that crap—
“Parrish, my man! So glad you could make it!”
Wait, what?
Parrish was Adam.
Parrish, Gansey’s roommate, who didn’t seem to have a first name in any stories Ronan had ever heard.
Gansey was the roommate that Adam promised he’d go see.
Which meant Gansey was fucking cockblocking Ronan from hooking up with his own roommate right now.
Jesus Christ.
“And Ronan! You’re back! I’m so glad! I wanted to you to finally meet my roommate!”
He was drunk, and he didn’t seem to notice that Adam’s hand was still gripping Ronan’s wrist. Blue, on the other hand, was looking between them intently.
“Adam Parrish, you already know my lovely girlfriend, of course. And this is my best friend Ronan Lynch.” He waved imperiously and sloppily at Ronan.
“I didn’t know you were here this weekend, Blue,” Adam said.
“Oh, did I not tell you I had people visiting?” Gansey asked. “That can’t be right. I’m sure I mentioned it.”
“Oh, well, if you’re sure,” Adam’s dry tone was back. Drunk Gansey was oblivious.
“Very…very sorry about that. Thoughtless of me. No thoughts up here,” he laughed, tapping his temple. “But you’re already used to Blue, and Ronan was just gonna sleep on the floor, I swear you won’t even notice him.”
Adam looked at Ronan with that intense gaze again. “Is that right.”
Blue narrowed her eyes.
“Actually,” Ronan said, eyes still on Adam’s, “I’m gonna pass on the floor. As much fun as that sounds. I think I’ll find a hotel instead. Parrish?”
Gansey looked confused. Adam shrugged, smiling slightly.
“Yup,” Ronan decided. “Okay, this third-wheeling has been grand, great to see you all, we’re leaving.”
“Wait,” Gansey said. “Wait, wait. What’s happening here.”
“Sorry Gansey, no offense to you and your terrible party. We’ve just got a naked date with Homer.”
Gansey’s eyes bugged. “You mean you’re going to—but that’s supposed to be for graduation!”
Ronan laughed. “That’s the part you have a problem with? Not the extended public nudity?”
“Well,” he cleared his throat, looking very uncomfortable. “It’s tradition, after all.”
“It just has to be before graduation,” Adam said, like they were talking about getting a pre-requisite course out of the way a couple semesters early. “Doesn’t matter when.”
“And when is tonight!” Ronan chimed in.
“How in hell did you get roped into this? You don’t even go here.”
Ronan smiled, sharp. “I’m just in it to see Parrish’s dick.”
Usually he was far more tight-lipped about his hookups, but this was worth it for the hilarious journey Gansey’s face went on. Naked shock gave way to embarrassment, understanding, and finally settled on ruefulness.
“Ahem. Right. I’ll leave you to…that, then.”
Blue was cackling somewhere around their waistlines.
“How about it, shrimp?” he asked down at her. “Up for some potentially criminal mischief?”
She looked like she wanted to say yes, but ultimately shook her head.
"I think I'll stick to this Dick tonight," she said, pointing a thumb at Gansey, who turned am even brighter shade of red. Someone behind them let out a wolf-whistle.
Ronan gave a salute, threw an arm around Adam’s shoulders, and they walked back out the door.
*
“Jesus wept,” Ronan’s mouth blurted out without his consent as he watched Adam strip off his shirt and reached for his belt buckle. “I did not think this through.”
“Something tells me that’s a habit of yours. What’s the problem?”
“I can’t look at you and do this at the same time. I have a feeling running with a raging boner is going to be really uncomfortable.”
Adam’s laugh burst out of him, unbidden and joyful. “This is so stupid. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Just, fuck, we’ll both turn around, okay?”
Ronan turned his back, willed himself to calm down, and stripped off his own clothes.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Ready,” Adam answered.
They both turned to face the green, sprawling ahead endlessly into darkness. They glanced at each other, careful not to let eyes fall below giddy faces.
“The proud heart feels not terror, nor turns to run, and it is his own courage that kills him,” Ronan quoted. His heart was roaring inside his chest. He felt like he was about to dive off the top of the building. They clasped hands.
Adam shouted, “Go!”
They went.