Chapter 1

Ah, the days of late spring. The sun shining, but not beating down on anybody's neck; the wind blowing, but not causing anyone to shiver; the flowers blooming, but not covering every surface any longer.

Enter: Ronan Lynch, a hurricane.

It was close to the end of the year, and, as per usual, the entire school had voted on the various senior superlatives. Well, Ronan hadn't voted. But many had, and, for whatever reason, they had voted Ronan one-half of "cutest couple" (at least according to Tad). Not only had they voted Ronan (according to word of mouth, that is, Tad's mouth), but they had voted Adam Parrish as the other half.

Ronan didn't want to be voted for any superlative. But had he been voted "least likely to succeed", he'd have at least earned it. Had he been voted "most gay student ever", he'd probably be surprised, but it would make some sliver of sense.

But there was one huge, overbearing problem with the two of them having been voted "cutest couple": Ronan and Adam weren't dating.

Sure, they were friends, in the way that people who were friends with the same person were friends. In the way that people who saw each other every day learned to be friends, only to disappear from each other's lives the moment they no longer did. In the I-constantly-belittle-you way. In the I-don't-actually-know-what-to-think-about-you, but-you're-the-other-best-friend-of-my-best-friend-so-I-tolerate-you way.

They definitely, in no way, shape, or form, were not dating.

"What is this?" he demanded in front of the first student he happened upon once he stepped determinedly into the yearbook editors' room.

The boy looked up, bewildered. He pushed a lock of red hair out of his eyes. "What's what?"

"I said," Ronan, gritting his teeth, "what is this? That is, is this a clown's office? Have I become the butt of a bad practical joke?"

"I-I'm afraid, ahem," stammered the student, "that I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Adam Parrish and I have been chosen for cutest couple?" The venom in Ronan's voice began to draw in more people, and there were now three more students watching the none-spectacle. That is, Ronan was restraining himself from pushing the redhead up a wall and beating the shit out of him. "Parrish and I aren't even a couple."

"That's not my fault! We tallied the votes together, and – "

"Well count it again!"

"Ahem," said a familiar voice from behind him. Ronan turned around and faced Adam Parrish himself, in all his glory.

"Hey, Parrish," Ronan said, grinning crookedly. "Just sorting out a little problem here. Do you need anything?"

"I'm here to stop you from murdering anyone," Adam said coolly, but Ronan noted his cheeks were flushed, his breathing a little short. Had he run to get here?

"I'm not a murderer."

"Yet. And this isn't worth a fight."

"It's worth getting out of the yearbook. At the very least."

Adam sighed and pinched his nose in frustration. "We were voted in, Lynch. There's nothing we can do about that. Besides, it's usually not a real couple – we're at a boys' school."

Ronan hadn't known that last part, but it didn't make the situation easier. He looked around, straightened his jacket, and (somewhat) calmly walked out.

"Lynch!"

Adam Parrish was not a loud boy. He'd learned long ago that making noise can only draw attention, and he'd learned earlier still that attention only caused trouble. Right now, however, his anger was getting the best of him, and so, as he ran through the courtyard to catch up to Ronan, he was yelling, paying no mind to the ocean of attention he was drawing to himself.

(He often drew attention to himself without meaning to, but more on that later.)

Ronan continued walking, but slowed down to allow Adam to catch up. "What, Parrish?"

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That. That thing you did in there."

"I hate lying."

"Nobody actually thinks we're together, Lynch."

"Don't they?"

"No, they don't. Lynch, stop. Where are you even going?"

"To my car," he growled. It was indeed the end of the day, and there was no reason, per se, to stay at school, but usually the two of them waited for Gansey to come along. Only he isn't here today, Adam remembered suddenly. He's at some sort of thing with his mom, in New York.

"Okay, but just – " Adam sighed, trying to control his tone. "Do you want to try and get rid of it? We can. But it'll all be bureaucracy and the ilk."

Ronan spared him a glance. "We can?" They were almost at his car.

"I can."

"No, I'll help you. I'm the one who's – " He coughed and switched focus, his hands fumbling at the pockets of his dark jeans. "Fuck yes." He found his keys, unlocked the car, and walked around it to be next to the driver's side's door. Ronan's eyes met Adam's, and they were dark and unforgiving. "Do you need me to give you a ride, Parrish? Why are you still here?"

"No, I drove myself here," Adam said coolly.

Ronan muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like "what a Reese of crash".

"What was that?"

Ronan smiled, and Adam had to suppress a shudder. If that's what Ronan looked like when smiling, Adam never wanted to see him smile again. "Nothing. See you tomorrow, Parrish."

Adam didn't have work that evening, but all that meant was that he had to do most of his homework for the week tonight; anything big, or important, had to be done in the span of the five hours between him reaching St. Agnes and him falling asleep right where he was sitting. He managed to stay awake long enough to do almost all of it before realizing he had no idea how to do any of the Latin homework. He could, of course, call Ronan, but that would be futile for too many reasons to count; for one, Ronan never answered his phone – he had some sort of aversion to the entire thing. Another reason, of course, was that Ronan might not want to talk to him at all.

Another reason was that he would have to use a payphone, and that was precious pennies, wasted.

He'd made up his mind. If anything, what he was about to do would be worth it simply because he would get help on his Latin; but if he could manipulate the situation correctly… He washed his face, grabbed his keys, and left.

The car ride was shorter than usual; in his tiredness, he wasn't as careful as he usually was. The tri-colored car rattled, the noise keeping him blissfully awake until he realized he was no longer struggling with keeping conscious, now running on adrenaline alone.

The time was too close to midnight, and on the far side of it. This was probably a bad idea.

He parked the car. He opened the door. He climbed up the steps to Monmouth Manufacturing. He knocked. He waited.

The door opened, and on the other side was Ronan, looking… well, as though he hadn't gotten a lick of sleep. Though he clearly was dressed in some sort of pajamas – an old tee and sweatpants, something Adam had never thought he would see – his hair was unruffled, his eyes bright and awake. There was nothing of him that was not extremely aware, and even Adam, who was exhausted beyond words, could feel that innate awake-ness. It was magnetic, in its own odd way.

Adam blinked.

"What are you doing here?"

"I needed help with Latin."

"You could have called."

"With what phone? Would you have answered?"

"Probably not," Ronan admitted. He was silent for a moment, then turned around and walked back into the warehouse, leaving the door open. Adam took it as an invitation, stepping in somewhat hesitantly. It felt odd to be in here without Gansey – it felt, actually, somewhat thrilling. Like a new experience, despite the fact that he'd been in Monmouth Manufacturing dozens of times before.

Ronan was sitting on the couch they'd recently brought in from the street; they'd found it just lying outside, and at first, Gansey had offered it to Adam, but it was quickly understood that there was no room for it in the tiny space above St. Agnes. So, instead, Gansey had called a van, and then it was in Monmouth Manufacturing, and it felt as though it belonged there. It was a brown three seater, with a sag in the middle, probably due to excessive sitting and also probably the reason it was thrown out. Fitting two teenage boys living in a giant old factory, as they didn't much care. Blue had been mostly thankful she no longer had to sit on anybody's bed, or on the floor.

"Well?"

Adam realized with a start he'd been staring, and slipped the Latin notebook out of his bag. He sat down in a bit of a hurry, opening to the exercises he couldn't quite do.

It was about half an hour later and far too late – or really, far too early – when Ronan leaned back, and Adam wrote the last letter. Even if he'd had more homework to do, he was so exhausted, he wasn't sure how much he'd be able to accomplish. He looked at Ronan; Ronan was looking at Gansey's bed.

"Do you realize," Ronan began, "how pretentious it is for him to sleep out here? There's a perfectly good extra bedroom nobody uses, and he sleeps out here. It's so fucking stupid."

Adam snickered.

"What? It's true. It's like if I decided I would take a shit in a bucket instead of in the bathroom. Not just any single shit – every single shit. It's crazy. It's ridiculous. It's inconvenient for the rest of us." But Ronan was smiling too now, and soon they were both laughing.

Ronan's face changed when he was smiling like that, like the sun peaking from behind an-ever cloudy sky; you don't expect it to come, but when it does, it's refreshing and revitalizing.

The laughter died after a while, and quietly, Adam began gathering his things. He didn't know how to approach the obvious subject hanging in the air between them, didn't know how to make it any less awkward.

"Thank you," he said instead, "for helping me with the homework. I know you don't really like doing… any sort of work."

"No, I don't," said Ronan. He was looking up at the far-off ceiling, and his voice echoed a bit. "But you're going to help with the whole yearbook business, anyway."

"Right," said Adam. "About that – "

"You're not backing out, are you?" Ronan's voice was sharp, his entire body suddenly tense.

"Of course not." Adam kept his promises.

Visibly relaxing, Ronan rubbed his forehead for a moment before saying hesitantly, "I know you don't usually, but would you like a beer?" He began getting up, groaning lowly when he finally stood.

"No," Adam said, without even thinking. "But you're welcome to go fetch one for yourself."

"Who says fetch, Parrish?" Ronan said easily as he walked away. "Be right back."

Adam watched him go drearily. It was so late, and he was so tired – maybe if he only closed his eyes, just for a moment…

It was light outside when he woke, and he had a thick, gray blanket planted over him. The light had been what woke him up; he blinked at it, trying to get the last webs of sleep out of his system. What day was it? Was he missing school or a shift?

After a moment, he remembered that it was Saturday. He didn't have to be anywhere till the afternoon. He slowly made his way off of the couch, every part of his body aching as though he hadn't slept properly. (He probably hadn't. What time is it?)

"You're awake," said Ronan. He was leaning casually against the doorframe to his room. "I didn't peg you for a late sleeper."

"What time is it?" Adam asked.

"It's just a bit after ten. There's cereal if you want some. Otherwise, if you'd like some breakfast, you're not gonna find it here." Ronan turned around and reentered his room, shutting the door behind him.

Well.

Slowly, Adam gathered his things, stuffed his books in his bag, and before even five minutes had passed, he was gone.

A/N: I know what you're saying.

Gail, you can't start a new project now. You're just getting to the juicy bits in OTT! You've been working on that fic for two years!

... Yeah, well, maybe that's the problem. Maybe I need a breath of fresh air.

The stuff I've been working on at OTT have been getting dark and it's hard. So I'm moving on. Different fandom. I mean, this fic is going to be slow burn as well, but it's going to be all fluff. Seriously. I swear.

Ok, there's going to be angst, but it's mostly going to be fluff.

Credit goes where credit's due: I'm basing this fic on this post - post/136209714380/auroralynches-please-consider-a-pynch-angrily - and I'm not ashamed.

Seeya next time,

JustGail