Well I don't see you coming up with anything, [ adam grouses, crossing his arms and frowning at a tree over ronan's shoulder. he's trying not to even see ronan, just ignore that he's there altogether, but that gets hard when ronan tilts dangerously forward and has to steady himself on adam's shoulder. without even thinking about it, adam uncrosses his arms, one hand going to touch ronan's on his shoulder and the other stabilizing him with a grip on his forearm. a moment later ronan pulls away, cheeks furiously red, and adam has to admit to himself the reason he was avoiding focusing on ronan's face:
now that he's looked at him, properly looked at him for the first time since he realized what cabeswater wants from them, he can't stop staring at ronan's lips. he's trying to look somewhere else -- anywhere else, seriously -- but his eyes keep being drawn back to ronan's mouth. prior to this, adam had never really given any consideration to ronan's lips -- they were lips, like anyone else had, and he could see that ronan was attractive cumulatively, so he didn't feel the need to isolate each part of his face for its individual attractiveness. now all adam can focus on is the small bow of his upper lip and the plushness of the lower one. they look soft -- ronan doesn't have any trouble with chapped skin in the winter, adam's brain supplies inanely -- and adam can't help but wonder what it would be like to kiss him. he hasn't wondered anything so fervently since he wondered what it would be like to kiss blue.
with great effort, adam drags his gaze away from ronan's mouth, looking at the ground off to the side of them, his cheeks flaming. blushes aren't as obvious on adam as they are on ronan, since he's more tan, but he feels like this one must be visible from space. ]
Let's just wait and see what happens. It might let us go. It's never done anything like this before.
[ for once, ronan doesn't have a rude comeback or biting remark. he can't say what he's really thinking, that there's only one way out of this mess, so he says nothing. he could do what adam's doing and deny the obvious, joke about how maybe cabeswater's just decorating for the holidays, but he's not in the practice of denying things anymore. not admitting something isn't the same as denying it.
even though he's not looking at adam, he can feel adam looking at him. every nerve in his body is on edge and there's a restless energy under his skin. unconsciously, he wets his lips and bites the bottom one, a quick catch and release, like he senses that's exactly where adam's looking. he doesn't have to look at adam to know the shape of his mouth; he's studied it over the course of a thousand subtle (and not so subtle) glances, seen it chewing the end of a pencil, parted just so in sleep, smiling and cursing and disapproving and laughing. he's imagined kissing it and tracing it with his fingers and how it would feel if adam—did things ronan can't afford to think about here, when they're standing so close and can't move away from each other. the point is, he's memorized what adam's mouth looks like as much as he's memorized the rest of his face, his hands. and he...
...realizes he's been looking at adam while adam was looking at him, seconds before adam looked away.
his chest tightens and it's suddenly hard to breathe. with the lack of oxygen to his brain, he struggles to remember what adam just said. when he does, his mouth twists. ]
Yeah. And Gansey might stop wearing salmon-colored polo shirts. [ not fucking likely. despite himself, ronan glances up and his stomach drops to discover the mistletoe is still there. taunting them. unwittingly, he thinks about several dreams he's had about adam and cabeswater and wonders if they have anything to do with the way cabeswater is behaving now. a furrow appears on his brow and he bites his bracelets again before whipping his arm back to his side. ] If we're stuck here long enough, I might just dream up a goddamn axe and turn these fucking roots into fucking kindling.
[ he says it in the direction of a nearby tree, like a threat. because it is one. ]
[ in response to ronan's threat, the roots around their ankles only get tighter, and adam, unbalanced, sways forward slightly before he can get his weight redistributed properly. his hands fly out, unbidden, to grip at ronan's shoulders, holding himself upright while he shifts into a position where he can stand straight again. once he's got himself stable, though, he doesn't let go of ronan. instead he leaves his hands where they are, staring at ronan's lips with a deep frown on his face, like he's debating something in his head. after a moment, he grimaces, shuts his eyes tight, and leans forward until his lips touch ronan's.
it is, in all honesty, a truly unremarkable kiss. adam's not trying to make it a good one, though; all he wants is for cabeswater to release them so they can avoid talking about this ever again. after just a second, he leans back, looking up to check if the mistletoe is still there.
it is. ]
Fuck, [ he says, and drops his hands from ronan's shoulders. clearly, cabeswater isn't going to let them just half-ass it. ]
[ this time, as adam looks at him, ronan deliberately looks right back. but while he's watching adam's eyes, adam appears to be watching ronan's lips, and that makes his heart beat like a caged bird. before he can even open his mouth to ask the question, what the hell are you looking at?, adam kisses him.
adam kisses him.
adam parrish is kissing him, ronan lynch, and he can't do anything but stand there, figuratively and literally rooted to the spot. while adam's eyes are shut tightly, like he was bracing for impact, ronan's are open and wide, like a deer in headlights, and by the time he remembers how to move or breathe, adam is pulling back.
fuck doesn't even begin to cover it.
it figures the only time ronan gets adam to kiss him is while they're being held hostage by a sentient forest that's apparently gone rogue. ronan has half a mind to take a torch to the place, though he doesn't linger on that thought for fear the trees might decide to combust while they're still trapped. he doesn't need to look up to know that the mistletoe is still there. the roots haven't loosened their hold. ronan is starting to lose feeling in his left foot. ]
That was pathetic, Parrish, [ he says as if he has any authority on the subject. (he doesn't.) the low tone of his voice belies his uncertainty, the extent to which he's been shaken. all the same, he raises his hands and cup the sides of adam's neck. ] Here.
[ then he leans in and presses their lips together like he means it. ]
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no subject
now that he's looked at him, properly looked at him for the first time since he realized what cabeswater wants from them, he can't stop staring at ronan's lips. he's trying to look somewhere else -- anywhere else, seriously -- but his eyes keep being drawn back to ronan's mouth. prior to this, adam had never really given any consideration to ronan's lips -- they were lips, like anyone else had, and he could see that ronan was attractive cumulatively, so he didn't feel the need to isolate each part of his face for its individual attractiveness. now all adam can focus on is the small bow of his upper lip and the plushness of the lower one. they look soft -- ronan doesn't have any trouble with chapped skin in the winter, adam's brain supplies inanely -- and adam can't help but wonder what it would be like to kiss him. he hasn't wondered anything so fervently since he wondered what it would be like to kiss blue.
with great effort, adam drags his gaze away from ronan's mouth, looking at the ground off to the side of them, his cheeks flaming. blushes aren't as obvious on adam as they are on ronan, since he's more tan, but he feels like this one must be visible from space. ]
Let's just wait and see what happens. It might let us go. It's never done anything like this before.
no subject
even though he's not looking at adam, he can feel adam looking at him. every nerve in his body is on edge and there's a restless energy under his skin. unconsciously, he wets his lips and bites the bottom one, a quick catch and release, like he senses that's exactly where adam's looking. he doesn't have to look at adam to know the shape of his mouth; he's studied it over the course of a thousand subtle (and not so subtle) glances, seen it chewing the end of a pencil, parted just so in sleep, smiling and cursing and disapproving and laughing. he's imagined kissing it and tracing it with his fingers and how it would feel if adam—did things ronan can't afford to think about here, when they're standing so close and can't move away from each other. the point is, he's memorized what adam's mouth looks like as much as he's memorized the rest of his face, his hands. and he...
...realizes he's been looking at adam while adam was looking at him, seconds before adam looked away.
his chest tightens and it's suddenly hard to breathe. with the lack of oxygen to his brain, he struggles to remember what adam just said. when he does, his mouth twists. ]
Yeah. And Gansey might stop wearing salmon-colored polo shirts. [ not fucking likely. despite himself, ronan glances up and his stomach drops to discover the mistletoe is still there. taunting them. unwittingly, he thinks about several dreams he's had about adam and cabeswater and wonders if they have anything to do with the way cabeswater is behaving now. a furrow appears on his brow and he bites his bracelets again before whipping his arm back to his side. ] If we're stuck here long enough, I might just dream up a goddamn axe and turn these fucking roots into fucking kindling.
[ he says it in the direction of a nearby tree, like a threat. because it is one. ]
no subject
it is, in all honesty, a truly unremarkable kiss. adam's not trying to make it a good one, though; all he wants is for cabeswater to release them so they can avoid talking about this ever again. after just a second, he leans back, looking up to check if the mistletoe is still there.
it is. ]
Fuck, [ he says, and drops his hands from ronan's shoulders. clearly, cabeswater isn't going to let them just half-ass it. ]
no subject
adam kisses him.
adam parrish is kissing him, ronan lynch, and he can't do anything but stand there, figuratively and literally rooted to the spot. while adam's eyes are shut tightly, like he was bracing for impact, ronan's are open and wide, like a deer in headlights, and by the time he remembers how to move or breathe, adam is pulling back.
fuck doesn't even begin to cover it.
it figures the only time ronan gets adam to kiss him is while they're being held hostage by a sentient forest that's apparently gone rogue. ronan has half a mind to take a torch to the place, though he doesn't linger on that thought for fear the trees might decide to combust while they're still trapped. he doesn't need to look up to know that the mistletoe is still there. the roots haven't loosened their hold. ronan is starting to lose feeling in his left foot. ]
That was pathetic, Parrish, [ he says as if he has any authority on the subject. (he doesn't.) the low tone of his voice belies his uncertainty, the extent to which he's been shaken. all the same, he raises his hands and cup the sides of adam's neck. ] Here.
[ then he leans in and presses their lips together like he means it. ]