sulkybbarnes:

adam sits in a window seat at the barns, a mug half full of coffee forgotten by his side, and a book open in his lap. he feels ronan’s approach and shifts to make room, the way he always does for ronan, without even looking up. this is a language they have long ago perfected; the slight movement of legs or arms, the rearranging of one’s self in a space so another fits in, the unthinking way either of them would shift in bed or on the couch or in a doorway so the other can share their proximity. ronan sits where adam’s legs had been stretched a moment ago and replaces adam’s cold coffee with a fresh one. there is a smile in adam’s voice when he thanks ronan, and a sarcastic answer lined with fondness in response. they sit there, adam’s feet tucked under ronan’s calves (to keep warm), and ronan occasionally reaching out to run his fingers down adam’s arm or across his palm, taking a sip out of adam’s second forgotten cup of coffee, sharing adam’s space and body heat as the glowing afternoon fades into a serene evening. 

rietvelds:

@ravencyclenetwork search: favorite ship  »  adam parrish & ronan lynch

“it wasn’t me,” ronan said. he looked to blue, who shrugged. he caught adam’s eye. when adam’s mouth quirked, ronan’s expression stilled for a moment before turning to the loose smile he ordinarily reserved for matthew’s silliness. adam felt a surge of both accomplishment and nerves. he skated an edge here. making ronan lynch smile felt as charged as making a bargain with cabeswater. these weren’t forces to play with.