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There were many awful things about the evening, but none were so annoying as Henry Cheng thinking he was so fucking clever. He wore his arrogance on his lips, his limbs, his words. It was in the way he said, Hey Ronan, you’re looking awfully nice tonight, or when he cooed, Noah, did you know you burn 26 calories every minute you kiss? Isn’t that crazy?
God. He wasn’t clever at all. He was horribly obvious and if Ronan noticed, then Adam absolutely noticed.
“I don’t understand why we’re celebrating Christmas three weeks early,” Adam muttered, holding up a piece of tinsel as if it were a failing grade.
“Because I’ll be in Vancouver all of break!”
Adam didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, but both he and Ronan had learned not to question Henry in front of the rest of the gang. Gansey would be quick to educate them on Henry’s finer qualities, and worse, Blue would definitely find it necessary to lecture them on how they weren’t that fucking perfect or fantastic either, so where do they get off being so judgmental? (Or something. She altered her phrasing occasionally, but the general sentiment was always the same.)
Still. What Ronan wouldn’t give to pull Blue aside and say, Then control your fucking B-F-F. He’s sticking his nose into my businesses.
Right on cue, Henry turned to Ronan with a look that was far too innocent. “Ronan, would you grab some whiskey from the kitchen?”
“Get it yourself.”
“I’m too short,” Henry said with a shrug. “Three bought top shelf whiskey, so we had to put it on the top shelf. But now we’ve lost the stool, and no one can reach it anymore. And as the tallest, it is your duty--"
“Fine, I got it, I got it.”
Ronan didn’t feel like humoring his attempt at an excuse - for whatever the fuck it was he wanted from Ronan, because clearly this was a set-up for something - but the longer he stayed in the living room listening to Henry coo, the longer he had to be around Henry. So he collected his limbs from the couch and walked to the kitchen, glaring the entire trip.
Of course, there was no fucking whiskey to be found in the entire kitchen. Ronan was pushing the contents of third cupboard around when he heard Henry say, “Parrish, you’re the second tallest. Go help him out.”
Ronan slammed the cupboard shut, hoping it conveyed his feelings toward Henry’s antics. God. Ronan wasn’t one to judge anyone on their ability to be subtle, and yet Henry made him seem like the suavest motherfucker on earth. Adam appeared a moment later, hands stuffed into his pockets, looking incredibly annoyed.
“What do you think he’s after?” Adam asked, voice quiet.
Ronan knew exactly what Henry was after, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Adam. He wasn’t sure how Henry had found out about his completely unreciprocated crush on Adam, but the past few weeks Henry had taken on the task of changing Adam’s feelings. Ronan wanted to punch him. If Adam Parrish were ever to like Ronan, it would not be because Henry-Fucking-Cheng tricked him into it.
“If we get him drunk he may be more tolerable,” Ronan muttered.
“Or more annoying,” Adam countered.
“I’m willing to take the gamble, but first we got to find this fucking whiskey.”
They searched for a few more minutes before Henry appeared in the doorway. He hit himself on the forehead and said, “You know what, I just remembered we put it in the freezer. To chill. I’ve got some glasses out here, just bring it, would you?”
Ronan stared at Henry. “You’re fucking with me.”
Henry grinned. “Thanks, dear.”
Then he disappeared out of the doorway and back to the living room. Adam patted Ronan on the shoulder as he passed him, making his way to the fridge. Low and behold, the whiskey was in the freezer, and Adam used the sleeve of his sweatshirt to grab it by the handle.
“Well, here’s to getting him drunk,” Adam said.
Ronan led the way back to the living room, but he stopped in the middle of the door frame when Henry pointed his finger at him, yelling, “J’accuse!” Adam bumped into his back at the sudden stop, and Ronan squirmed when he felt the frozen whiskey on his back.
“What now, Cheng?”
Henry was leaning against the couch, grinning madly. His eyes drifted forward, up toward the ceiling, and he waggled his eyebrows. “Looks like we found our first victims.”
Ronan stepped aside to allow Adam entry through the door. Adam was following Henry’s gaze, though whatever was on the ceiling didn’t give Adam nearly as much glee as it gave Cheng.
“What’s that?” Adam asked.
“Oh, my dear, sweet, naive boy,” Henry said. “Have you really never seen it? That’s--”
“Mistletoe?” Ronan finished. He didn’t even have to look up. He was smart enough to put it all together: Henry’s insistence on celebrating Christmas early, his constant references to kissing, putting Adam and him in one room.
“I’ve never seen it before. Not what I expected,” Adam said. He was still staring curiously at it. Typical. Trust Parrish to see mistletoe and think more of its intricacies than its implications.
Henry turned to Noah. “Noah, remind us. What’s the rule about mistletoe and getting caught beneath it? Something about kissing?”
Noah cracked a grin. “I think that rule only applies when it’s two people who like each other. Otherwise everyone would be kissing everyone at a holiday party.”
“I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” Henry said. Then, with an apologetic look to Blue, he added, “Well, for most everyone.”
Ronan was trying very hard to keep the glare off his face. Adam was smart - if he suspected that Ronan was furious about this turn of events, he might question why Ronan was so upset, which could lead him to questioning Henry’s actions, and sooner or later he would figure it all out. Instead, Ronan tried to look casually annoyed. Like the idea of getting caught under mistletoe with Adam was frustrating only because he had to be stuck in this conversation.
Adam, meanwhile, was still inspecting the mistletoe. He reached his hand up to touch the berries, then up to the small, red bow that was hooked on a nail.
“Well, rules are rules, boys,” Henry said, bringing Ronan’s attention back to the other people in the room. Shit. “Smoochy smoochy.”
He had a feeling Henry thought he was doing him some favor - oh, poor Ronan, so kiss-starved that he would be satisfied from a forced kiss - but Ronan did not want to kiss Adam like this. Not because Adam felt pressured. Not when there were people everywhere. Not when Henry was orchestrating the whole god-damn-thing.
Adam had finally turned away from the plant, and he stuffed his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He was staring at Ronan with no expression - an irritating look, as it made it impossible to know Adam’s thoughts. Henry was staring at him, one eyebrow raised. Finally, Ronan leaned down, kissed Adam on his cheek, and then shoved him forward into the living room.
“Happy?” Ronan asked.
Henry did not look happy. He took the whiskey bottle from Adam’s hands and muttered, “I’ve given sexier kisses to my stuffed animals.”
Ronan had a lot of choice things to say about that, but he didn’t want to continue the conversation. Adam looked irritated by the whole situation, clearly not entertained by Henry’s antics, or maybe Ronan’s kiss, and he pulled his hood over his ears and fell into the couch. Henry poured a shot for everyone, though only Blue, Gansey, and Ronan took part, and soon the conversation turned to Glendower and Aglionby and nothing that Ronan found particularly interesting.
Ronan didn’t drink anything more. By the end of the night, Henry and Blue were sufficiently buzzed, entertaining themselves by licking playing cards and sticking them to their foreheads. Gansey head kept falling forward in sleep, while Noah was content to watch Blue and Henry’s antics. When it was clear that this would be what the night turned into, Adam nudged Ronan’s knee and said, “Give me a ride home, would you?”
He would. He always would. They didn’t bother saying goodbye - no one was in the head space to really care. In the BMW, Adam pulled his sweatshirt up past his chin and fell into it, hiding his lips from view. It was for the best. Ronan didn’t want to see them, as they served as a constant reminder of what almost happened.
When they got to St. Agnes, Ronan killed the engine. Adam dropped his sweatshirt from his mouth to grin. “What? You don’t want to go back to Monmouth?”
“Don’t make me beg.”
“Well, since it’s Christmas.”
Once inside, Ronan took his place on Adam’s floor. By now, Ronan had left a collection of blankets and pillows to use at his disposal; as Adam got ready for bed, he arranged them behind his back to prop himself up. He pulled out his phone, intending to listen to music or play a stupid game, but found a message waiting for him.
It was Cheng.
You’re no fun. >:(
Normally, Ronan wouldn’t respond. However, with Henry’s stupid face stuck in his mind, and knowing Blue wasn’t around to yell at him, Ronan took the opportunity to make this feelings known.
I swear to God, Cheng, you pull a stunt like that again and I’ll personally pull every hair from your head.
What?! You’re the one who ruined everything for me!
Ronan squeezed the bridge of his nose. Maybe Henry was too drunk for this. Still, he might check his phone in the morning, so Ronan added, Leave it alone. Adam doesn’t like me. It’s fine.
A few seconds later, Henry texted back a string of emojis. WHAT? Do you like ADAM? Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh myyyyy godddddddd.
Okay, he was definitely drunk. I’m not in the mood for this. Just knock it off. No more setting us up or putting shit like mistletoe around.
The door to the bathroom opened and Adam stumbled out, wearing a pair of pajama pants and the same sweatshirt. He was probably cold - St. Agnes didn’t have the best heating - but Ronan had long since given up on getting Adam to accept a space heater.
“Ronan Lynch? On his phone?” Adam joked, slipping into bed. “Must be pretty important.”
Ronan flipped him off. His attention was taken away from Adam, only momentarily, by Henry’s next text. He stared at the words.
The mistletoe was for Noah you cow! You were just supposed to be my example, to prove it was the rule!
“What the...” Ronan muttered. Adam was looking at him curiously, and unable to contain it, Ronan added, “Does Henry like Noah?”
“You didn’t know?” Adam asked, amused. “He’s been flirting with him all evening. Hell, he told Noah you can burn calories kissing.”
“Doesn’t sound like he got any action tonight,” Ronan muttered.
Adam shifted on his bed to face Ronan, dangling his legs off the bed. “No one did. You chickened out.”
“I didn’t--” Ronan flicked his eyes up to Adam, searching his face. Adam was teasing, clearly, but it was still a strange thing to say. “Mistletoe is fucking dumb.”
“It’s a tradition,” Adam countered.
“You’d never even seen it before,” Ronan said.
“Yeah, but I’d always heard about it.” Adam reached into his sweatshirt pocket and rested his hands there, hunching his shoulders forward. “I don’t know, it seemed fun.”
Ronan swallowed the breath in his throat. What was he supposed to do with that? “Well, next time, Parrish, I’ll pucker up real nice for you.”
“That a promise?” Adam asked.
Ronan hesitated. What was this? Were they flirting? “Sure.”
Adam sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, almost as if to hide a smile. But before Ronan could question the look, Adam’s eyes flitted to his front door, narrowing. Ronan turned to follow his gaze, wondering what earned Adam’s ire, but there was nothing unusual.
When he turned back, Adam was dangling his hand above the two of them, twisting a small sprig of mistletoe between his fingers. He was staring at Ronan with another infuriatingly blank expression.
“Where’d you get that?” Ronan asked, voice hitching in his throat.
Adam blinked. “Gansey’s. I snapped a piece off.”
“You...” Ronan trailed off, not knowing what to say. He could feel his heart speeding in his chest, pounding painfully.
“You promised,” Adam said. He sounded confident, but his arm dropped from its raised position, and Ronan wondered whether he was second guessing himself. “We don’t have to. I just thought it’d be fun.”
Ronan bit the inside of his cheek. There were excuses threatening to spill out. How had he argued his way out of this last time? It was a forced kiss. Well, Adam was the one asking for it. There were people around. Except for the freaky mural of angels on Adam’s ceiling, they were absolutely alone.
“It’s--” Ronan paused. Seeing Adam flinch, he said, “Okay. Fine. Since you’re so desperate.”
Adam was still sitting on his bed, and though his bed was propped up with a shitty crate, it still gave him a height advantage. So Ronan slid forward to his knees and straightened his back. It was still not enough to close the gap, so Ronan arched his chin up. Adam was still holding the mistletoe above their heads, only barely, and Ronan spared it a quick glance.
“Rules are rules,” he muttered.
Adam used his other free hand to steady Ronan by his elbow. He was staring at him, waiting, possibly, but he dipped his head closer. Ronan allowed himself one more deep breath for courage, before he pressed his lips to Adam.
He had expected it to be chaste - because, really, mistletoe did not require a make out session, just one, simple kiss - but when Adam pressed his lips to Ronan again, and then again, he allowed himself to enjoy the moment. Adam’s fingers were pressing into his elbow, and soon he dropped the mistletoe the ground, his arm following, so that he could cup Ronan’s neck.
This was fine.
This was normal.
He was kissing Adam, it was fine and normal and--
Then Adam opened his mouth and he felt his tongue touch his and Ronan realized, all at once, that this was not just a mistletoe kiss. Adam must have sensed Ronan’s reaction, because he pulled back abruptly. “I’m sorry.”
Ronan couldn’t look away from Adam’s flushed face. As he kept his eyes on him, he groped around the floor, looking for the discarded mistletoe. When he found it, Ronan raised it above his head and said, “Rules.”
When Adam’s lips split into a quick grin, Ronan tugged Adam off the bed and onto the floor with him. It was an awkward tumble, especially when Ronan still had one hand raised into the air. But neither cared, because they were kissing again, Adam’s hands gripping the front of Ronan’s t-shirt, Ronan’s hand - no, okay, fuck the mistletoe, he wanted both hands to hold Adam.
Ronan felt like the kissing had only barely begun when Adam pulled away. Somehow, Adam had wrapped his arm around Ronan’s neck and he was halfway on his lap.
“Well,” Adam said, licking his lip. “So that was mistletoe.”
“Right.”
Adam slipped off of Ronan’s lap and sat back on his bed. “Well. Uh. We should probably go to bed, now."
“Right.” Ronan was too dazed. What had just happened? Were they just going to pretend that never happened?
Adam slipped under the covers and pulled the blanket around him. Then, just as abruptly, he sat back in bed and looked toward the ground, to where the mistletoe was discarded. He picked it up and stuffed it back into the pocket of his sweatshirt. “We should keep this. For...”
“Science?” Ronan supplied.
“Exactly.” Adam flipped on his side, away from Ronan, and pulled the blanket over his head. “Get the light, Lynch.”
Ronan got the light.