Work Text:
It was like this: Ronan and Adam were sitting on the porch, Opal off to eat something she probably shouldn’t be eating, the buzzing of chicadas and various dreamed animals a steady, companionable background. They were sprawled on a two-person swinging chair, only it wasn’t available to purchase anywhere; Ronan had dreamed it, and brought it into the world. What was decidedly otherwordly about it, though, was this: no matter how hard you bent or kicked, it would only swing when the heartbeat of whoever was sitting on it rapidly increased. Ronan had told Adam about the not-swinging part, but had omitted the rest. Not because he was happy to keep secrets – or anything, for that matter – from him, but because, in truth, he was scared that they’d sit and Adam would never let him hear the end of it. Ronan was perfectly aware of how often his heartbeat sped up in Adam’s presence, because everything about his boyfriend made him feel like he was going to combust – of love, of passion, of everything inbetween. And he was sure Adam knew that just like he knew everything else about him.
Ronan had tried to avoid sitting on the damnable object, producing excuses in varying degrees of believability, until on one mildly hot June afternoon, Adam had grabbed his boyfriend by the wrist and thrown the both of them on the green and white-striped cushions of the swinging chair, so that’s where they were.
Adam was sitting properly, or at least, however he deemed proper for the circumstances. It had taken approximately three seconds for Ronan to notice how relaxed Adam became when he was at the Barns, when it was just them, and it filled him with a kind of insatiable pride.
Adam had brought a book about optimizing the conduit of communication or something like that – Ronan had kind of lost track of the explanation – and was reading it intently, Ronan’s head resting comfortably in his lap, his legs askew and boots hanging just over the side of the chair. He’d managed to keep his heart calm so far, but he knew it was a matter of time. As if on cue, Adam started absent-mindedly caressing Ronan’s bare shoulder with his left thumb, and Ronan’s heart leaped like a toad on a sugar rush.
The chair suddenly swung, vaguely reminiscent of a roller coaster cart, and Adam nearly dropped the book, his hand gripping lightly onto Ronan.
“Woah, I thought it didn’t swing?”
“Uh, maybe I got it wrong.”
Wrong thing to say.
Adam closed his book and with a raised eyebrow, he shot Ronan a look. “You never get it wrong.”
“Never is a strong word, Parrish.”
“I’ll figure it out, you know. Eventually.” The look only increased in intensity, and Ronan couldn’t take it.
“Fine, fine, Jesus,” he said, pulling himself up and away from Adam’s lap, which was very much not something he enjoyed. He hooked one arm so that it was hanging through the opening behind the chair, and avoiding Adam’s gaze he added, “It only swings when your heart beats faster. I mean, if you’re sitting on it. It’s dumb.”
Adam turned to face him fully then, folding one knee so that it was brushing against Ronan’s. He had a small smile playing on his lips, and Ronan stole a glance at him and wanted to kiss him.
“How do you know it was yours?”
Ronan’s brows crumpled in the middle. “What?”
“How do you know it was your heart that … sped up?” Adam asked, in the same way one would ask how someone could be sure they’d locked their car right.
Ronan could feel himself on the verge of blushing furiously, and the chair swung again, lightly. Adam’s mouth opened in soft wonder, but instead of teasing Ronan, he shook his head lightly. Ronan didn’t want to be presumptious and mistake something like expectable mirth in Adam’s eyes as he regarded him for quiet lust.
“What do you want me to say, man? You…” Ronan scoffed, passing a hand over his buzzed head. “You do things to me. I can’t help it. I’m sorry it it’s weird or if it makes you feel uncomfortable that I can’t fucking handle you touching me.”
Ronan was perfectly aware Adam wouldn’t judge him, ever, at all. It was one of the reasons he loved him. Still, the admission felt more like a confession – he didn’t want to scare Adam away with the sheer force of his feelings. Which was preposterous since they’d been dating for a while, and Ronan was sure of what they had, and dating was a stupid word anyway, because there was no word in the English language – nor in Latin, for that matter – that could encompass the way he burned for the person in front of him.
Adam, though, stood up and offered his hand. “Come on,” he said, and Ronan took the hand like a lifeline, allowing himself to be hoisted up.
“Where are we going?”
“I’d like to show you,” Adam said as he guided him inside and up the stairs, “exactly how it makes me feel.”
It was like this: Ronan was going to fall asleep.
He was exhausted, in the best possible way, because Adam had very thoroughly assured him: that Ronan’s heart would trip unsteadily because of Adam was a privilege, the kiss he’d planted on his mouth before they could even step inside Ronan’s room said; something that filled him with irrepressible joy, his fingers traced Ronan’s collarbone said; something he wanted to keep making happen for a very, very long time, his nose brushing against Ronan’s after they were both spent said.
Ronan’s eyes fluttered close, Adam scratching lightly at his nape making him feel drowsy and happy and safe. He felt the covers rustling as Adam got a little closer, but he didn’t open his eyes.
“Ronan?”
“Mmhh?”
“I love you.”
Ronan’s eyes snapped open.
Adam shrugged, as if to say, it is what it is.
“What?” Ronan breathed, and was struck with a brief few seconds of lucidity that allowed him to think if he’d been on the swinging chair right now, it would have done a couple of vertical loops.
“I’m in love you with you, Ronan.” said Adam simply.
Ronan blinked a few times, then said, “Fuck.”
“Wow, okay,” Adam snorted, “not the reaction I was going for.”
Ronan shook his head. “No, I–Fuck, I just … I wanted to say it first.”
“Oh,” Adam whispered.
Ronan raised a tentative hand to Adam’s face, and settled to brush two knuckles over his boyfriend’s freckles-dusted cheekbone. “I’ve been wanting to say it for a while. I’ve been thinking it for much longer. I’m in fucking love with you, too.”
Adam cupped his hand over Ronan’s, leaning into his touch.
“I know.”