Work Text:
It starts right after work.
Adam has an early shift at the warehouse, 4-9, and without school as a concern anymore he’d been able to get to bed on time for it. He has to wake up earlier to get to work now that he’s staying at the Barns, and prying himself out of a warm bed with a clingy Ronan is never easy, but he’d come to work well-rested and he leaves not too tired.
It feels like a luxury still, going through a day without exhaustion lurking around his edges.
He has a shift at Boyd’s later, but that’s not until the afternoon, and Gansey asked him to come by Monmouth. He does, sometimes, after a morning shift, and they have coffee (Starbucks if Gansey has his way, 99 cent gas station coffee if Adam does) and talk. It’s easy and relaxed, without the fervor of Gansey’s quest, though he always has something new and interesting to talk about. Monmouth is quieter without Ronan, without Noah, but it’s still familiar and strangely homelike. Adam never minds going there.
He pushes open the door, calling out a quiet hello as he enters. Though it’s only a little after 9, and school’s been over for weeks, Gansey is almost certainly awake. He’d asked Adam to come by, after all, and anyway he’s been sleeping better, Blue says.
There’s a chance Blue might be here, but not a large one. Her mother is not overly fond of letting her stay over at her boyfriend’s place, even if he did die and get resurrected by an eerie magical forest. It’s the principle of the thing.
“Adam!” Gansey says. He’s got something in his hands, something largeish wrapped in parchment. He steps forward and presses the object into Adam’s hands. Instinctively, Adam takes hold of it, and he gives Gansey a quizzical look.
Gansey looks briefly uncertain. Worried, maybe. He chooses his words carefully.
“Ah, well, after looking at your school records when I was helping with your college applications, it turns out we missed your birthday last year. I didn’t want that to happen again.”
For a moment, Adam can only stare at him. Gansey, more uncomfortable, can’t seem to stop himself from continuing.
“Ronan said you wouldn’t want a party, and I thought he had an excellent point, but I didn’t want it to go uncelebrated. I hope you like it.” He gestures to the package in Adam’s hands.
Adam turns it over, not sure how to feel. Initially, there’s a brief spark of useless anger, before it settles. He’s so rarely angry about these things anymore, but some things take longer to get over, and he hates the thought that Gansey might have pitied him. That Ronan might have. That they realized they’d never really known when his birthday was.
But that isn’t their fault. Adam doesn’t celebrate. He never has, not since he was very young. It’s not something he misses - rather, celebrating was a reminder of his existence that could only end in pain, and he learned early on that it wasn’t worth it. He didn’t spend his birthdays sulking about being unacknowledged, he spent them grateful at being overlooked, until the day simply became a marker that he’d survived another year. Another year closer to freedom, to success.
The year before had marked something, but only coincidentally. Coming to terms with Cabeswater had not intentionally happened on his birthday, and he hadn’t realized it until days later, with everything that happened in that short time.
He still doesn’t know how he feels. He puts the blank spot where his feelings should be aside and looks at Gansey.
“Thanks,” Adam says, because he thinks that he probably should. Gansey visibly relaxes.
Adam’s gotten better at accepting gifts, too. It would be impossible not to, now that he sleeps next to Ronan and wakes up with strange dream things scattered around him more often than not. He still doesn’t really like it when people buy things for him, but he’s reluctantly had to concede that the exchange of money for goods or services is not altogether different than creating an object out of dreams and pulling it into reality.
Actually, he hasn’t conceded that at all, but Ronan has shrugged and said, “No difference,” enough times that he’s sort of given up.
Still, his friends are careful, as he doesn’t like it when they buy things for him. Gansey in particular is careful about it, still remembering all their fights, all the thorns and silences between them on this subject.
But this time, Adam swallows down any possible annoyance. This clearly is not done out of pity or charity. It’s his birthday. People normally give gifts on a birthday, and people normally receive them. It’s no one’s fault that Adam hasn’t done that since he was six years old, and isn’t sure how to react to it now.
It’s not no one’s fault. But Adam doesn’t want to deal with the tangled thicket of pain that is his family, so he doesn’t. Not today.
He takes the parchment off the gift, carefully, because Adam Parrish does not waste things and Gansey can probably reuse this.
It’s a bag. Like his messenger bag, the same style, but nicer. New, of course, and made of a sturdy canvas that can take a beating, which Adam appreciates. His old bag has been through a lot, and he’d been thinking he should get a new one to take to college with him.
The shoulder strap has a strange pattern, something like vines winding in and out, and embroidered on one corner of the bag is a tree. Adam brushes his fingers across it, appreciating the craftsmanship, and looks up to smile at Gansey.
“Thanks. This is great.”
It is, too. He can practically see the thought process that went into it, knowing Gansey the way he does. Gansey wanted to get something that he would appreciate, something that he would use, something that wasn’t too expensive but that was more expensive than he’d normally waste money on. Something Adam could, theoretically, have gotten for himself, and something that he doesn’t really need. Nothing that could even remotely provoke a fight, even though they haven’t fought over this sort of thing in months.
The thought behind it means as much or more than the gift itself, and for a moment Adam’s heart squeezes in his chest when he thinks about what he almost lost. Gansey dead on the road. His best friend, his brother, gone.
Gansey brightens into a smile in return. “Oh, thank god. I thought you might need it for school, and - well. Anyway. Happy birthday, Adam.”
There’s a soft sincerity in his voice when he says that, and Adam has to swallow a lump in his throat. He’s still not sure how he feels about this, but Gansey is pleased and he did need a new bag and - well. The awkwardness is gone.
They sit and talk, Gansey telling him about his most recent new interest (Emperor Yao, who Adam has never heard of but by the time Gansey’s over knows quite a bit about) and Adam asking the right questions, letting him expand upon things, and genuinely finding himself interested. They’ve always clicked well like this, because Adam will never obsess over history the way Gansey does but he loves a puzzle, he loves figuring out the workings behind things.
He tells Gansey about Ronan’s attempt to build a new shed - build, not dream - and all the things that have gone horribly wrong. Gansey and Ronan see each other often enough, and they all hang out together, too, but Adam is fairly certain Ronan does not tell Gansey the more embarrassing stories. That’s Adam’s job.
It’s getting on toward noon when Blue interrupts them, striding into Monmouth with the air of someone who feels at home there. Adam nods at her in greeting, but is surprised when she comes right over to him with only a pause for a brief kiss on Gansey’s cheek.
“My turn,” she says, and Adam blinks at her in confusion.
“Ah, yes,” Gansey says, and he coughs, a touch embarrassed. “Well, I did tell everyone it was your birthday.”
“And I called you for lunch,” Blue says with a grin. “Sorry we didn’t tell you. We figured you might try to back out.”
Adam is still not sure how to feel about this, but he can’t say that Blue is wrong. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the thought - he does - but rather that he doesn’t know how to react to all of this. If he’d been warned, he probably would have found some excuse to say no. Scheduled a day full of work, found somewhere he desperately needed to be. Instead he’d practically forgotten it was his birthday, and certainly he hadn’t planned for this.
“Okay,” he says with a sigh, and Blue’s smile grows. She looks happier these days, more settled in herself. Adam thinks it’s a combination of things - knowing what she is, having her future within her reach, the endless road trip plans she and Gansey and Henry never stop discussing. And, of course, Gansey.
They’re happy, finally. They can kiss, finally. It’s made something blossom within Blue, and within Gansey as well, and Adam can only feel pleased to see it.
He says goodbye to Gansey, bumps fists with him, and follows Blue out.
“Henry dropped me off, so you’ll have to drive me back home,” she says, and Adam spares a moment to wonder why Henry didn’t stay. But Henry is a mystery wrapped in an enigma topped with truly impressive hair, so he doesn’t wonder long.
He and Blue climb into the Hondayota - Adam uses the BMW sometimes, but not today - and drive to 300 Fox Way.
It’s as warm and comfortable and full of women as ever. Adam has never felt at home here, exactly, but he’s always liked it, and he can’t help but like the way they’ve all sort of casually embraced his existence.
Lunch is sandwiches for him and yogurt for Blue and a polite refusal of tea. He has work in a couple hours, and really can’t show up in an altered state. You never quite know what’s going to be in the tea at Fox Way. It’s comfortable, friendly, relaxed. Blue updates him on their current road trip plan, Adam talks about work, until they’ve finished and Adam leans back in his chair.
“So is this going to be a thing?” he asks. “Should I expect to be passed off to Henry in a few minutes?”
Blue laughs. “No. We just figured… I don’t know. It would be easier to just hang out with us instead of making it a big deal.” She pauses, looks him in the eye, honest and intense for a moment. “We care about you, you know.”
Adam looks away, because he can’t do anything else. He knows. He knows they do, and it means so much to him, and he’ll never be able to put it into words. He didn’t have friends before them, didn’t know what love felt like.
It feels like this. Like knowing that your friends are thinking of you, and that they want you to know it. Knowing that you’re important to them.
“Plus, Ronan said we couldn’t throw a surprise party because you’d get pissed and then there wouldn’t be any birthday sex,” Blue says, a wicked grin growing.
Adam splutters, covers his eyes with a hand, and can’t help but laugh. The sad thing is, he is almost certain she’s not joking. That sounds exactly like something Ronan would say.
“Fine,” he says, laughter still laced through his voice. “Lay it on me, then. I assume you have a present?”
“You assume right,” Blue says, and she fetches a strange fabric concoction from the other room. Adam looks at it for a moment. Too big for a scarf, too small for a blanket -
Blue looks pleased with herself. “It’s a throw. I made it.”
That, at least, is very clear. It’s pieced together from different kinds of fabric, less like a quilt than a Frankensteinian concoction of creativity. But after a moment, Adam recognizes some of the pieces - an old shirt of his that he’d thought Ronan took. A patch of leather that can only be from one of Ronan’s jackets. A pastel green strip that looks disturbingly like one of Gansey’s polos. Other patches here and there that are familiar, interspersed with selections in colors and patterns that Blue knows he likes.
It’s not beautiful, but at the same time, it really is. It’s careful and thoughtful, an explosion of color and memories, and it’s so very Blue that Adam doesn’t know what to say.
She speaks instead, her voice softer. “Bring it to college with you. That way you’ll have part of us.” Her grin returns. “And your roommates will be super jealous.”
He laughs again, but just as with Gansey’s gift, he’s touched. The thought that went into it, the care and time, picking out things he’d like - it’s almost too much.
Adam knows they love him. He does. But to have it demonstrated like this, first Gansey and now Blue, he doesn’t quite know how to handle it. To know they thought so carefully about what he would like, what he would accept, means a lot.
He touches the fabric, folds it carefully and holds it in his lap.
“Thank you,” he says, and he means it. Blue smiles, and he thinks for a moment about how important she is, how all of this is partly because of her. He doesn’t want her like he once did, but he loves her, and their friendship is stronger because of what they once had.
“My turn,” Calla says from the kitchen doorway, and Adam looks up in surprise. She comes to the table, sits down like the chair is a throne, and arranges her tarot cards in front of her. Her eyes are sharp, and Adam is a little intimidated by her, even now. “I’m not giving you a present, forest boy, but you get your cards read. I know you can do this yourself, but don’t even start with me. Take three.”
He does not start with her. He reaches out instead, touches the cards, and takes one.
The Magician. Calla laughs sharply. “I don’t need to explain that one, right, kid?”
She doesn’t. Cabeswater is gone, but Adam is not unmagical. Something changed within him, after that bargain, and even without the forest he can feel the ley line in his blood. The cards still speak to him, albeit more subtly, and he thinks he could do more, if he tried. If he practiced.
When he tries.
He reaches out, takes another. The Three of Cups.
“Good birthday card,” Calla says, and Adam finds himself agreeing. It means friendship, community, love, groups of people working together, and he can’t deny it. The last year has brought him friendship where he never had it before, and he knows these bonds will not break. Gansey and Henry and Blue will go on their trip, he’ll go to college, they’ll make other friends, but their connection isn’t going to fade. That could never happen.
He draws the last card. The World. His fingers linger on it for a moment.
Calla smiles. “Looks like this’ll be a good year for you.”
Adam looks at the card, looks at Blue, and then smiles back. He thinks it will be, too.
When it’s time for him to leave for his shift at Boyd’s, Blue pulls him into a quick, warm hug. “Happy birthday,” she murmurs into his ear, and he hugs her back.
“Thanks,” he says, and once again, he means it.
As he’s outside unlocking the Hondayota, Maura comes out of the house. She’s holding something, and she walks up, pressing it into his hands. It’s a pie, and Adam’s heart hurts for a moment.
“I made it from one of her recipes. It won’t be as good, but I didn’t do any improvisation, so-” Maura smiles, and there’s sadness in her eyes. It’s not sharp and new anymore, but it’s there. Adam feels it too.
“It’ll be great,” he says, returning her smile, and for a moment he knows they’re both thinking the same thing. Missing someone who they both wish was there.
Maura goes back inside. Adam puts Persephone’s pie in his car and drives to work.
He’s not actually expecting anything else, but halfway through his shift Henry Cheng shows up.
He walks in like it’s totally normal for him to just show up at an auto body shop on the outskirts of Henrietta, hair reaching toward the ceiling and shoes probably costing more than a week’s worth of pay. He’s carrying coffee, and he leans against the side of the car and offers one to Adam.
“Hey, happy birthday, my magical friend. Don’t worry, I won’t take up too much of your time. Just wanted to give you this.”
Adam straightens up from where he was bent over the engine, wipes his hands off, and takes the coffee. He supposes it’s birthday coffee and so he should not refuse it, and anyway, he could use a little pick-me-up to get through the rest of his shift.
“Thanks,” he says. Henry does not appear to be carrying anything else, and so Adam relaxes. He doesn’t really want to think of the sort of present Henry might decide to give.
He wasn’t sure about Henry Cheng, at first. A latecomer to Gansey’s quest, who knew too much too fast, in Adam’s opinion. But Gansey, when he lets someone in, embraces them fully. It happened with Blue, and with Henry, and - of course - with Adam. After that initial uncertainty, how could he really hold it against Henry for long, when Adam himself was just as wrapped up in the strange orbit that’s part of who Gansey is?
Over the months since the end of things, he’s become a more familiar presence, and even Ronan has capitulated and gotten used to him, in his own Ronan way. Henry is clever and thoughtful, more than he seems, and a true friend when he’s given the chance.
Adam likes him. In some ways, it helps that Henry wasn’t there for the worst of it. He knows about Adam’s family - he’s too perceptive to not have noticed the bruises, even if they weren’t friends - but he missed the bad parts, he missed Adam veering off the tracks after Cabeswater slipped into his head. He knows, but he wasn’t there, and so it’s like starting fresh.
He sips the coffee. It’s some overly sweet caramel concoction, but Adam actually likes it, even though he usually takes his coffee with just a little milk. His eyebrows raise, and Henry chuckles.
“Not bad, huh? I know you’re not big on gifts, but who’s going to say no to a personal coffee delivery at work? This one’s not even on the menu, let me tell you how to order it-” And Henry launches into an overly complicated explanation of how to special-order a coffee that Adam most assuredly cannot afford, which segues into a sincere explanation of fair trade coffee beans.
It’s actually pretty interesting, and it’s a nice break from work. The story winds down, and they sip their coffee in companionable silence for a few minutes.
Adam’s the one who breaks it, finally. “I don’t usually celebrate my birthday,” he says. He’s not sure why he says it. Henry knows. They all know. But he thinks maybe Henry can understand a little better than most.
“We’ll work you up to a real party,” Henry says, a smile at the edges of his lips. “Until then, at least give our friend King Richard the chance to buy you a present without worrying for one day a year.”
Adam laughs quietly. “Fair enough.” Someday, Adam thinks, he’d like a party - a gathering of friends celebrating his birthday does sound nice, in the abstract, even if thinking about it too hard brings up uncomfortable memories that threaten to make his hands shake. He pushes them away. Someday he does want that. And Henry’s right. He’ll get there.
Henry holds out his hand to bump knuckles, an echo of Gansey, and straightens. “And with that, I’m off. It’s too hot in here. I can feel my hair wilting.”
“A tragedy,” Adam says dryly, and Henry nods in serious agreement. He claps Adam on the shoulder gently and heads out. Adam gets back to work.
He thinks he knows how he feels, now. He thinks he’s happy, despite himself, despite his bad memories and his uncertainty.
They care about him.
After work, he climbs back into his car, tired but not overly so. The pie is on the passenger seat, with Gansey’s bag and Blue’s throw.
He doesn’t head home quite yet. He has a stop to make first.
The cemetery is calm, quiet. The summer sun is beginning to lower, and Adam doesn’t see anyone else there. He reaches out, traces the name on the gravestone. Noah Czerny.
He doesn’t say anything. Adam isn’t the sort of person who talks and hopes the dead will hear, not after everything he’s seen and done. They hear, or they don’t, but speaking aloud doesn’t make a difference. Instead, he only stands before Noah’s grave and thinks about his friend.
He doesn’t know what it would be like with Noah here. If he would have insisted on a party, if he would have manifested through it. Probably there would have been more glitter, either way, and maybe a useless but fun present. Stupid antics with Ronan. Quiet words just when they’re needed.
Nothing can ever replace Noah. Nothing ever will.
It doesn’t matter, in the end, what it would be like if Noah were still there. What matters, Adam thinks, is that Noah cared about him, and he cared about Noah in return. That they touched each other’s lives, or what passed for them.
He kneels and lays a handful of flowers on Noah’s grave, wildflowers picked from the side of the road. A birthday present given, instead of received.
As he leaves the cemetery, he leaves a dandelion and a handful of shiny stones on Persephone’s grave, too.
Then he goes home.
Adam stayed at St Agnes until graduation, since it was much closer to school and all his jobs, even if he tended to spend a couple nights a week at the Barns anyway. But the week after graduation, he’d ended his lease and moved everything to the Barns. It didn’t make sense to stay there, to keep paying rent.
And of course, he wanted to spend the summer with Ronan.
It’s been good. It’s been better than good. Adam has never had a place that really felt like home before, that gave him the safety and warmth that other people associate with the word ‘home’. He does now. He never really considered himself the domestic type - never really thought about it at all - but there’s a hole inside him that’s filled by watching Opal play with the cows, curling up on the couch with Ronan after a long day, knowing that they’ll always welcome him with open arms.
He’s not sure if he should be anticipating something or worried, but Adam has little doubt that after everything else that’s happened today, Ronan has something planned.
After Gansey, after Blue and Henry, the thought sends a little tickle of pleasure through him. They were thinking of him. Caring about him.
He knows that Ronan does, often. He doesn’t doubt Ronan’s feelings for him, even if sometimes he doesn’t understand them. Ronan’s heart is steadfast, and all Adam can do is try to treat it with the care it deserves.
He pulls in at the Barns, collects his gifts, and heads inside. The beautiful, protected valley is dreamlike in the setting sun, and Adam feels warm, welcomed.
Inside, he sets most of his things near the door for later and takes the pie into the kitchen.
It’s an absolute disaster. Ronan comes through the mess to kiss him hello, smile sharp as a knife, and Adam raises his eyebrows. “What have you done?”
“All for a good cause,” Ronan says. He takes the pie from Adam’s hands, looks it over, and goes to stick it in the fridge for later. “What’d we do, brat?”
That last question is directed to Opal, an apparition of a girl mostly covered in flour. She careens over, spoon in hand, and clutches Adam’s leg. Now there’s flour all over him, too, but he can’t bring himself to be annoyed.
“Birthday!” Opal says, as if it explains everything, and it sort of does.
“I explained how all this shit works, and she said she wanted to make you a cake,” Ronan says with a shrug, casual and cool. His eyes flicker to Adam though, uncertain for a moment.
“Gansey told me you two talked about it,” Adam says, ruffling his hand through Opal’s hair. Ronan can be an ass sometimes - usually on purpose - but he’s also one of the most thoughtful people Adam knows. He feels overwhelmed, for a moment, by all the care Ronan takes with him. He doesn’t want Ronan to think he’s done something wrong. “So… is it edible?”
Ronan flashes that grin again, shoulders relaxing. “I don’t know, man, it’s your cake. Opal went crazy.”
That is not particularly promising, but Adam’s in for the long haul. He is fairly sure Ronan would make sure nothing went in there that could actually get him sick, anyway.
Ronan has made dinner, too - nothing fancy. Unable to resist the urge to light things on fire, he prefers grilling to actual cooking, especially in the summer. So it’s hamburgers, a small piece of Maura’s pie - which is excellent, and the taste makes Adam’s heart clench - and then the cake.
It’s a monstrosity, covered in poorly-applied frosting and sprinkles. Opal watches him with intense interest, looking more scientifically interested in his reaction than worried he won’t like it. That’s not exactly reassuring either, but - well.
It’s not bad.
It’s not good, either.
It’s interesting.
Adam swallows his bite, nods carefully, and looks at Opal. “Chocolate and… tomatoes?”
She nods, grinning. Ronan starts laughing, probably at the look on Adam’s face.
“It’s wonderful,” Adam says gravely, and Opal looks delighted.
Then he has to finish his piece, but it sort of gets better with time. He watches Opal dig into hers with gusto, while Ronan refuses entirely. She doesn’t seem to mind.
Adam watches them, watches Ronan take the fork from her as she tries to bite off one of its tines, and he thinks that this is it, for him. No matter where else life might take him, this is what his heart will always think of as home.
It’s happiness, elusive and foreign, and someday he might get used to feeling it.
They clean up the kitchen - Ronan stopping him now and then to steal a kiss, because apparently cleaning gets him hot - and then Opal gives him another present, an interesting-looking stick and three different flowers, one slightly gnawed. He accepts them as gravely as he did the cake, and sets them with his other gifts.
Then they head outside. Ronan goes to one of the barns and brings out a box, sets it down, and hands Adam a lighter.
“Time to set shit on fire, Parrish,” he says with a smile.
The box is full of fireworks.
As it turns out - unsurprisingly - they’re dream fireworks.
Adam lights one off, and it explodes into a multicolored spray of fire, lighting up the night. The next fires up bright spots in the shape of a flower, and the one after that makes an arc of flame. Ronan laughs, full-bodied and easy, and hands Opal a lighter. For a moment Adam is uncertain - she’s only a child - but he knows that Ronan would never dream anything that could hurt her.
So he sits on the porch and watches his boyfriend and the little girl that came out of his dreams play. They light off fireworks, Ronan tries to catch her and she runs, they collapse on the grass, and Adam watches it all and can’t stop smiling. This uncomplicated happiness is the kind of gift he never thought he’d receive, never thought even existed for so long.
“Hey Parrish, watch this one,” Ronan says with a wicked grin, and lights off another firework. It explodes in roughly the shape of Adam’s face, and Adam rolls his eyes and tries to push his smile away but fails miserably.
“Asshole,” Adam says, and Ronan drops the lighter and comes to the porch, catching Adam’s face in his hands and kissing him.
They settle in together, pressed against each other, watching Opal run through the grass. She lights off a few more fireworks, spins in circles, investigates bugs and leaves. Ronan’s arm finds its way around Adam’s waist.
“Happy birthday,” Ronan says, looking out over the Barns, his tone disinterested but his hand on Adam’s hip warm. Adam doesn’t respond, instead just leans into him, lets his head rest on Ronan’s shoulder for a moment.
Opal gets tired before too long, and they take her in and put her to bed. She sleepily demands a goodnight kiss from Adam, which he obliges, and he smooths her hair before closing the door. Ronan’s leaning against the wall next to it. He gives Adam an unreadable look.
“I wanna show you something,” he says, and unreadable turns out to mean nervous.
Adam follows him back out of the house, into the night. It’s warm and beautiful and altogether perfect, and for a moment he’s lost in all of it, in Ronan and this place and everything he thought he could never have.
“Close your eyes,” Ronan says gruffly, turning to him. He takes Adam’s hand, and with only a curious look, Adam does as he’s told. They give each other shit - it’s part of who they are - but he trusts Ronan implicitly in a way he’s trusted almost no one else throughout his life.
Ronan leads him by the hand. With an effort, Adam turns off his brain and doesn’t even try to guess where, just letting himself be led. Ronan’s fingers are strong and sure around his.
“All right,” Ronan says, stopping them. “Open up.”
Even when Adam opens his eyes, he’s not sure where they are. Not far from the house, sure, they didn’t walk that far, but he’s never seen this place before.
That’s not a huge surprise. The Barns contains hidden pockets of beauty that surprise him all the time. But this is something else, something different - this is something Ronan did.
He doesn’t know if it was dreamed or built. It doesn’t really matter. It’s a little clearing enclosed by trees, all soft grass and stars above, just big enough for a couple of boys to lay side by side and have room to stretch out. Around the edge of the clearing are mason jars holding fireflies, the kind of brilliant bits of light that Ronan so loves to dream. There are soft blankets on the grass, though it barely needs it.
He looks at Ronan, who’s looking back at him.
“It’s beautiful,” he says, and Ronan smiles, a softer thing than his usual sharp grins. He leans in to kiss Adam, and Adam leans into him.
“It’s for you,” Ronan says. He didn’t need to say it. Adam knew anyway, but it makes him smile, a true and honest thing.
He lets himself be pressed down into the blankets, pulls Ronan down with him.
The stars above them are clear and bright, the clearing is filled with light, and Ronan’s hands on his skin fill him with something more pure than either of those things. He’s embarrassed, sometimes, by how hungry he always is for Ronan, but right now it just feels right.
His hands map Ronan’s body, Ronan’s lips are on his neck. It’s bliss, it’s always bliss, even when they get rough, even when all he has time for is a quickie before work. They’ve learned each other, Ronan always knows just how to touch him. Adam knows the same, and he can’t get enough of it.
They take their time and it feels almost like a dream, there in that clearing lit by actual dreams. Ronan doesn’t stop touching him until he’s coming apart under Ronan’s hands and mouth. Neither of them are done, even then, and when Ronan pushes inside him it’s everything he wanted. The world narrows to the two of them, Ronan above him and the stars shining brightly down, and everything Adam needs is right there.
After, they curl up together on the blanket, tired and content, Ronan pressed against Adam’s back, arms warm around him. He kisses the nape of Adam’s neck, just once.
Adam knows they probably shouldn’t fall asleep there, but he can’t bring himself to really care. Ronan is there, the night is warm, and it’s the closest thing to a perfect day that Adam has ever experienced.
It’s the best birthday he’s ever had, sure. But in some ways he thinks it’s the first birthday he’s ever had. Here he is, Adam Parrish, the friend of a king and a mirror and a prince, beloved by a dreamer and a dream, but magical and vital in his own right. He matters. He’s worth something.
He’s worth celebrating.