WHO: Adam and Ronan Lynch WHAT: Exchanging small gifts to start a new tradition as a married couple WHEN: Laaaate evening of Christmas Eve, before midnight mass WARNINGS: None! STATUS: Complete!
When Ronan suggested that they exchange something small and cozy as a newly married couple, Adam naturally over-thought the gift. What kind of small and cozy gift did Ronan need that wasn't something he couldn't just dream up, or quite frankly, buy himself? Gift-giving for someone who had impossible possibilities at his fingertips was always going to be hard, but Adam rose to the challenge. Finding something that Ronan didn't consider for himself but clearly needed—on a practical level or an emotional one—was a talent. One that Adam spent years honing.
By Christmas Eve, Adam had thoroughly exhausted every poignantly clever idea and went with something not critically analyzed to death. Meaning he had to go with his gut, something that felt immediately right.
He had taken his time to wrap it, and shove it under the tree before the chaos of the morning ensued. Before the market and rush of people that followed, eager to snag last minute gifts of their own. Before Adam has ducked over the kids table to help with crafts, and somehow get more glitter on himself than was absolutely necessary. Hours passed in a blink, and catching Ronan's attention during the day was brief before they were both pulled away to assist with something.
Sometime after dinner, under the soft glow of the tree, and between the quiet conversation with Gansey in the living room, Adam let Ronan tuck in beside him for a quick nap. Once everyone slipped off to their rooms and with one hand free, Adam started paging idly through one of the nonfiction books on the side table. He wasn't really reading, not when he was getting distracted by running his hand down Ronan's arm and staring off at the multicolored lights of the tree.
Adam almost nodded off himself, until he noticed the time. Late in the night, but plenty of time to get to mass. He leaned in and kissed the shell of Ronan's ear, then another to the top of his head, and finally on his temple. "My legs are starting to fall asleep," Adam said, soft and fond, as he squeezed Ronan's bicep. "And you still need to get ready."
The last week had been both emotionally draining and physically exhausting for Ronan. Between Syd's disappearance, prepping for Christmas, and making a fucking sweetmetal, there'd hardly been any time to just exist quietly. Rest. Ronan didn't even realize he'd dozed off until Adam's voice pulled him away. He'd curled up against Adam's side on the sofa, long legs half underneath him, and a blanket draped around both their shoulders. That was how he woke, and as warm as he was, his legs were not happy about the treatment.
"Fuck. Think mine did too," he grumbled, stretching one leg out and then the other, which made him slump further into Adam's side. His eyes track to the mantle. There was still time for their plan to open a gift just between them and he couldn't pretend he was in any huge hurry to get to midnight mass anyway.
"I'll get dressed after we do the presents. Not gonna sit here in my suit and get you all hot and bothered before I leave," he smirked. He still didn't make any quick movements to collect his gift for Adam from under the tree. He was really fucking toasty, okay.
"You sitting in your suit getting me all hot and bothered could have been your Christmas gift, you know," Adam said, raising his eyebrows in a quiet, suggestive way. He allowed Ronan to adjust and promptly put his arm back around him. Adam was warm, Adam was good—despite the last few weeks dredging up darker thoughts and more pragmatic world views of Vallo—that moving for anything seemed like a poor choice.
But he nosed at Ronan's hairline before he slipped out from underneath him. Presents, right. Adam shook out his legs, popped a few of his joints in his hands and neck, and stretched his arms over his head letting his thin pajama shirt ride up. He was immediately cold not being next to Ronan under the blanket, and so he dropped to the floor to grab their gifts.
He held up the package wrapped in sharks-with-scarves paper, and smiled over his shoulder. "Yours?" Adam said, already knowing the answer. "Mine." In his other hand, he showed off his gift to Ronan, bound in similarly ridiculous paper—cows with Santa hats.
"How do you want to do this?" Adam asked as he came to stand over the couch. "We're starting a tradition, are there words we should say or order we should unwrap? Or somewhere else we should sit?" Clearly, Adam was overthinking this.
“That would be lame ass gift when you get it every Sunday,” Ronan snorted. He was reluctant to let Adam climb out of their cuddle and seeing Adam’s exposed belly didn’t help. Fuck he was sexy. What little self-control Ronan had went towards waiting for Adam to come back with the gifts in hand but as soon as he was back within reach, Ronan slipped his hands under the edges of Adam’s shirt to grip him by the waist and pull him across his lap.
“Trust you to think way too fucking hard about this. Give it.” He claimed his gift, but left it tucked between Adam’s hip and his own belly. “Open yours first. Looking at you in this thin shirt is making me cold.” Adam’s gift was a rechargeable hand warmer, small enough to tuck inside a large pocket. “I want you to know I bought this with my hard earned money and didn’t even pull it out of my head.”
"As opposed to what? Stolen money? Easily earned money? I might be the asshole who won't accept a handout, but you're just as stubborn," Adam said, giving Ronan a hard time, as he settled into his lap. Leave it to Ronan to disrupt that endless loop in Adam's mind, by simply physically tugging him out of it. Plus, this was a warmer better option.
He exchanged one quick, skeptical glance with Ronan before he slowly started to peel away the paper. Always careful, always cautious, and wanting—just for a moment—to savor this time together, without anyone else around. The expression on Adam's face shifted from curious to confused, and then bright pleased recognition at the handwarmer.
"Are you trying to tell me something?" Adam teased, and then kissed Ronan, making sure to put his currently-cold hand against his cheek as he did. It was a thank you and I love you all in one. "Could have used this today during the market. I'm still defrosting." There was a pause, before he nodded at the gift between them. "I used my hard-earned money for that one too, in case there was any doubt."
"As opposed to dreaming it, smartass. I thought you might like that I went to an actual store. Like a normal schlub." Ronan quieted as Adam opened the gift and his gaze brightened at the response to the gift. He leaned into the kiss, then turned his head towards Adam's hand on his cheek and nipped at his palm affectionately. He hadn't been especially nervous about this gift; it was practical and he knew how cold Adam's hands got. But it still pleased him to see it land well.
"You can still warm your hands between my thighs anytime, obviously," Ronan smirked. "Just wanted you to have an option when I'm not easily available as a heating pad." Collecting his gift, he ripped into it without any of Adam's caution. "Ooo, fuck yeah." He pulled one of the fingerless gloves on and fisted his hand to test the padding. There was a mitten half that hung from the glove to slip over his exposed fingers when he wasn't working and made an impressed face. "These are perfect." He gaze slid to Adam's mouth, then down his throat, clearly getting sidetracked along the way. "Kinda sexy that we both picked hand shit."
"Obviously," Adam echoed, placing one of his hands on Ronan's thigh for good measure. He watched with eager interest as Ronan opened his gift. It wasn't that it was a bad choice, or that Ronan might not like it, but that nagging voice in his head also found a way to strum some self-doubt into his brain, to needle his already constant worry with what if he doesn't like it? The voice, at least, was getting quieter as the years went on.
Adam watching Ronan's roaming gaze also helped silence any uncertainty. He hummed, then shrugged, all nonchalant, as if picking something for Ronan's hands had been a no-brainer.
"You're not the only one who can have an obsession with hands," Adam said, though his fascination was with Ronan's tattoo, the strong muscles of his back, or in a suit with a tie that he could pull— "Next year it will be feet shit. Or head shit. But I figured you had enough beanies to last you a while. I wanted something my husband could use right away and think of me while he's hauling..." Adam smiled and shook his head. "... cow shit, I guess."
The words my husband still made Ronan's pulse zing, predictably. He kind of hoped it never stopped, as fucking sappy as it was. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of Adam's neck and then his shoulder.
Christmas lights twinkled around the room, on the tree, across the mantle. It wasn't perfect; it couldn't be with people lost and people never here. But it was still good.
"I know what your real obsessions are, Lynch," Ronan teased. His touch was gentle as he turned on the hand warmer and pressed it into one of Adam's palms. "But I like this next year and the year after and the year after that shit. Not making any promises to stick to a fucking theme but this is definitely our thing now." He still only had one glove on but he also had mass to get ready for eventually and it was already going to take everything he had to get himself off this couch and out from under Adam. Especially when he was coiling his arms around him and sinking further into the couch. "Wonder if we should skip midnight mass this year. It's been a hell of a month…"
Adam mumbled a soft, "me too," as his fingers curled around the hand warmer, lost in the gentle sensation of heat on his palm. There were unspoken words there; he liked thinking about year after year, promising a future despite whatever came for them. Adam couldn't help but plan, and while his life with Ronan wasn't regimented down to days and months, the potential of it was there. They could look forward together. And that was the best Adam could do against the unpredictability of their lives.
As Ronan wrapped his arms around him, Adam leaned further in, tucking his face against Ronan's neck. Another layer to this protective cocoon. "I know it has, but that's never stopped you before," Adam said, using his free hand to pull the blanket over and around them. He knew this wasn't making it any easier to get up, but Adam wasn't always logical.
He was quiet for a long time, long enough to think that was all he was going to offer on the subject—he wasn't one to convince Ronan to do or not do something when it came to his religion—before he said, "I could go with you and Matthew." He sat up a little just so his face wasn't hidden, to show he was serious. "If it's important to you, it's important to me too. I'm a Lynch, I want to do traditions that didn't originate with me." Adam paused, then added, "And I can use my gift."
Ronan might have started to drift off in that peaceful, warm quiet if Adam hadn't spoken again. More importantly, he'd said words that made Ronan feel wide awake in an instant. He tried not to look too affected by the suggestion, but he'd never been subtle and he probably never would be.
"I mean…I guess it's only right now that you're a Lynch." The words said I want you there so badly it's stupid, but only if Adam read between the lines. "Just. If you hate it, like it's actual fucking torture, you have to promise that's it. You won't go next year. And it'll be okay. I don't want you to suffer through shit for me. That's not…"
He wanted to say you already suffer enough but that was a little too self-deprecating even for him. Besides, he thought the balance was pretty good. Else why the fuck would Adam have ever agreed to a life with him. Instead, he pressed a kiss to Adam's temple. "I need Christmas to be something wholly good for you. Here. With this family."
"The only thing that is actual fucking torture is actual torture, I can listen to scripture and pretend to sing hymns I don't know for a few hours. There are worse things I would suffer through for you, without complaint," Adam said, leaning into Ronan's kiss against his temple. He could feel the unspoken request, he understood the implications. Adam, stubborn as all hell, wouldn't back down. He was not so easily deterred by organized religion when Ronan needed him.
With his hands appropriately warmed, Adam leaned away to press them to Ronan's chest, running them over his shoulders in a comforting way. Sometimes it was overwhelming how intense the lengths Ronan would go to make sure that everything was the best for him. Adam didn't know how to not be the self-sacrificial one.
"It is good. It's always going to be good because I am with this family, with you. That's all I need. I know that's not what you want to hear, that maybe, I don't know, there should be more to it than that for the holidays, but..." Adam shook his head, chasing away the memory; they didn't matter anymore. "You've shown me that there is more I've missed out on. Don't ever think that you are not enough to make the holidays worth it for me."
Ronan started to roll his eyes at Adam's predictable stubbornness, but he got distracted by warm hands on his torso. Like a defensive cat being petted by calming hands, he sagged bonelessly into the cushions and breathed out the tension that church always brought. It brought comfort too - with Matthew next to him, he could almost pretend Declan was on the other side, looking dutifully blank until Ronan elbowed him in the ribs. But catholicism would likely always be a familiar stress in his life.
"Shut up," Ronan said, without any bite. He stroked a hand up Adam's back and rested it at the base of his neck. "Of course I want to hear that things are good for you here. It's just…It's okay to tell me when things aren't too. Things aren't always going to be good, Adam. I'm me and you're you." He said that part fondly, not like it was a bad thing. "And we need different shit to be happy. All I'm saying is we keep talking. You don't have to suffer in silence to prove I'm enough. Meet me in the middle here," he teased, pressing up under Adam's jaw to nip at the delicate skin of his throat.
Adam canted his head in amused agreement—I'm me and you're you, as if that wasn't a universal truth. Their fundamental differences had often been the source of their arguments, and it had taken a long time to get to this point where they weren't. But, Adam was quick to say, "If you think for one second I wouldn't tell you when something wasn't working, then you have me mistaken for someone else. I know things won't always be good. Trust me to be honest with you."
As Ronan nipped at his neck, Adam grabbed his chin to stop him, inhaled and stared him down with a serious expression, making sure Ronan knew, and then kissed him. It was a little rough around the edges, that abrupt way he tended to stake his claim to Ronan's mouth, before it gentled into something softer, almost like an apology. He exhaled as he pulled away.
"And you don't have to suffer through my choices because you don't want to sound ungrateful for what we already have. I'm psychic, not a mind reader. I'd rather fight about it so we can solve the problem than carry on in silence," Adam said. "And I'm about to have a problem with getting up off this couch if you keep your hands on me like that."
They'd kissed dozens of ways over the years, maybe even hundreds by now, but Ronan would never tire of Adam catching him off guard with a fierce one. He liked feeling claimed. He liked Adam claiming what he wanted even more. His lips stung in the best way. Chasing halfway after Adam's mouth as the kiss ended, Ronan breathed out to steady himself.
"I trust you with everything," he whispered. The soft intensity of the words was a very Ronan counter to the sharp grin that followed. "And I trust our fight then fuck philosophy on life. It's gotten us this far. Speaking of…" He dragged his teeth across his lip and started pushing Adam to his feet with a lecherous gaze. "Let's take your problem upstairs. If we move fast, we can sort us both out before we have to get church ready."
Adam felt warm all over. Whether that was because of Ronan's words, or the sting of his bite, or the heated expression that followed remained to be seen. Maybe it was all of it, maybe it was the moment of understanding they had just crossed. Who knew that communication with his husband, being known by this one person, was an absolute turn on?
As he was pushed up to his feet without hesitation—his own wordless way of saying yes, please to Ronan's suggestion—Adam grabbed for Ronan too. "If this starts to become a thing," Adam said, pulling Ronan past the warm glow of the tree toward the stairs, "we might have found our other new holiday tradition."