adam "now he's a spooky 10" lynch (parrish) (tamquam) wrote in valloic, @ 2022-05-11 13:44:00
WHO: Adam and Ronan Lynch WHAT: Boyd's needs a new paint job, and Adam takes the opportunity to give a "just cause" gift to his husband. Paint fight enuses. WHEN: Wednesday, May 11, afternoon(ish) WARNINGS: None, just some shithead sap. STATUS: Complete!
It was only a matter of time until the heat of the sun, the age of the paint, and the general out-dated signage would meet its match on the side of Boyd's. For two years it weathered the elements and Adam's ownership, but when a new customer claimed that she never knew what this place was, the name is so hard to read!, Adam decided it was time for a makeover. He had cost out paint, equipment, and mentally scheduled a weekend he could devote after finals—but before summer session—to handle it.
Until his stubborn, infuriating, wonderful husband offered to do it first.
Adam had complained, even put up a moment that was equally stubborn and equally infuriating, but inevitably agreed to Ronan's proposal. It was a good financial decision to have his artistically talented husband handle the mural. It had been a solid argument that he had time to make it look good, rather than cramming it in for a few hours on one Saturday. He had been both annoyed and incredibly turned on; Adam was easy to win over when rationality was brought in and he almost accused Ronan of cheating.
By the time mid-week rolled around and Ronan had shown up to Boyd's with supplies, ready to paint, Adam felt powerless to stop him. Part of him wanted to hover, to over-manage the project because giving over control was always difficult for Adam. But he trusted Ronan, and he knew his husband wouldn't jeopardize inherited business by scribbling anarchy on the side of the auto shop. At least, not where it was noticeably visible.
Work had slowed, and without cramming for finals between every free moment he had between the shop and home, Adam wandered outside to see the progress, wiping his hands between a grease rag. "Does it make things weird if I tell you to take a break?"
Ronan had been eyeing the outside wall of Boyd's for a long time. He didn't usually look at buildings with the eye of an artist who wanted to beautify architecture - he didn't give a shit what most buildings looked like when they weren't at the Barns - but Boyd's was an extension of Adam and therefore it was an extension of him. And it was ugly as shit. Not like an auto shop in Bumfuck, Virginia had any interest in being aesthetically pleasing, obviously, but still. As soon as the sign started to really show its wear and tear, Ronan started planning.
He was a little surprised Adam agreed without a battle about cost, but it was possible the saving you money saves me money, dumbass part of the proposal had done its job. Whatever the case, he had mapped out exactly what he wanted to do with the mural so by the time Adam came out, the base of the painting was done. The background was Monmouth, looking charming against a setting sun. Front and center was the outline of the Pig taking shape. The mural would be a tribute to the car that had brought the three of them together, Ronan, Adam, and Gansey. The car that Adam kept alive through magic and stubbornness as far as Ronan was concerned.
"Fuck yeah, it's weird." Ronan backed down the step stool and hopped off the last rung to turn a lazy smile towards his husband. He was paint speckled and a little sweaty so naturally he had to move in close and rub his face on Adam's. "You could've at least brought me some iced tea or something. Guess you'll have to bribe me with something else."
"You think I have iced tea in the lobby?" Adam asked, fighting off laughter when Ronan came in close. He pushed his face away, but left his palm on his cheek wiping at the bright orange paint there. His focus drifted from Ronan to the partially completed mural, and his smile grew tenfold. It was easy to tell what it was, and the piece felt fitting against an auto shop—not just for what it stood for, but the fact that the Pig spent just as much time here than it did in the driveway of the Barns.
"Lucky for you," Adam said, pulling his attention away, and digging into the deep cargo pocket on his coveralls. "I do have mini water bottles for all the non-coffee drinkers who spend time waiting for their oil change. Does this work as a bribe?" He passed it over to Ronan, while reaching around and pulling one out for himself. That one shared space with something else that Adam left alone for the moment.
He took a long drink from the bottle, starting up Ronan-original forming on the side of the wall. He knew it was going to take some time getting used to, but still. Adam exhaled. "This feels like the end of an era, you know. Painting over years grease and grime, and probably illegal lead paint."
Ronan’s grin widened as his face was pushed away. He took the offered water bottle, popped it open, and downed the contents. Someone with better planning skills probably would’ve brought a large water bottle with him. And snacks. But Ronan had assumed he’d eventually need a break and he would just kidnap Adam for lunch anyway. He crunched up the empty miniature bottle and tossed it towards his clutter of supplies.
“Yeah I had to scrape off a layer of shit before I could even get started.” He stared up at the wall, running a hand over the back of his neck. It looked good so far. At least he thought it did. But if he stared at it too long, he’d start picking out the mistakes. He dropped his gaze and crouched by his supplies to dig through a few cans. “Don’t tell Gansey but I spent way too much time paint-matching the Pig. It’s gotta be right.”
Adam's free hand was already unconsciously going to the Pig on the wall to touch the paint. "It's right, it's right," Adam said, quietly, canting his head to the side to get a better look. If he didn't know better, he would have thought the whole thing dreamt, considering how close the colors were—indecipherable differences, if at all. "But I'm definitely telling Gansey, after the surprise of putting the Pig on the side of the shop wears off. I didn't tell him we were doing this. He just thinks we're repainting the building."
A flash of consideration crossed Adam's mind, that maybe, along with the mural, he should simply rebrand the whole place—it was his now, wasn't it? The likelihood of Boyd arriving in Vallo and claiming his decades-old business felt relatively slim, and Adam had grown tired of explaining what Boyd's stood for. But that conversation was meant for another time. He brushed past it.
"But that reminds me, the paint matching—" Adam waved his hand away, and put the bottle down only to dig out a long rectangular box, thin and light, made of flimsy metal. Plainly obvious, a filled palette tin. Adam sounded strangely apprehensive, as he said, "I was going to wrap it, but then I ran out of time between finals, and I didn't know when to give it to you. And, well, yeah."
"That's still wet, nerd," Ronan warned, looking up from his crouch with a crooked smirk. There was still a lot to finish on the Pig itself so Adam could put his entire handprint in the outline and it probably wouldn't make much difference, but that didn't mean Ronan couldn't tease him. He was more interested in the look on Adam's face anyway, the confirmation that he'd gotten Gansey's beloved car color right, and then the gift being offered. Relief and affection gave way to confusion.
"What's this?" Even though it was obvious, it was surprising enough to raise questions. Ronan stood and took the tin, stepping closer to Adam like they were about to talk about a secret. "Fuck, my hands are making a mess," he mumbled. He was getting paint on the tin, but he pulled a rag out of his back pocket and carefully cleaned it. "I didn't forget some kind of weird anniversary or some shit, right? It's definitely not my birthday." He opened the tin and gave Adam a familiar leer. "First time I let you tie me up?"
Adam was so intently watching Ronan's reaction to the gift, but he didn't miss a beat. "I got you something else for that, which may or may not involve handcuffs." He grinned, in equal measure at Ronan. "But no. You didn't miss any anniversary because that just means I did too, and I'm confident I know what all of them are." But he would undoubtedly double-check after this.
"I'd been saving things," Adam started to explain, as if things was universally understood. "But I didn't know what to do with them, or the best way to give them to you. And then the box started to get full." For someone like Adam, who never grew up with much, the slow descent into "collecting" was inevitable. But it was impractical when his space was so intertwined with Ronan's.
"And then I came across a book at the library, about Egyptians and how they ground up items to make watercolor pigment and I just—look, here." Adam pointed at the first square, then started going down the line. "This one is made from the chipped paint from one of the Pig repairs. And this one is made from the flowers at our wedding. Cowslips here, and a flower from our first Valentine's Day in Vallo, here. And this one one of the first blooms from your mom's garden in Cabeswater..."
Adam glanced worriedly at Ronan's face before continuing. "This one was trickier, I wasn't sure how the feather would dry out to make the pigment but this black is actually Chainsaw's feather."
The explanation of the gift was more unexpected than the gift itself. Ronan's mouth fell open and he listened with his eyes more on Adam's face and hands than the paints themselves. When he did manage to close his mouth, he had to swallow a few times to find his words.
"Jesus Mary, Adam. This is…" It was special. A labor of love. And it made Ronan's heart pound with warmth. He cupped his hands around Adam's, encasing the tin, and lifted them to his mouth to kiss. "I love it. Thank you." That didn't feel like enough, but he didn't say those words out loud very often. He usually just showed his gratefulness in his actions and relied on the people he loved knowing what he was like. But this needed more words. He kissed Adam's hands once more before lowering them.
"Can't believe you made me paints," he laughed, breathless. "Half of these are dreamt materials even, fuck."
A small little thrill ran through Adam at seeing the pleasure of the gift on Ronan's face. He didn't think his husband would hate the watercolors, but there was a metaphorical weight to each piece of the tray that sometimes felt bigger than Adam was used to holding. Showing his love for someone else grew easier when he was met with the same mirrored intensity of it, but Adam still felt shy when it came to showing it—in affection, in gifts, in words.
He swallowed hard when Ronan kissed his hands, twice. He nodded, as if to say you're welcome. And then, Adam leaned in, punctuating the gratitude with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and pulled away grinning.
"It's slightly selfish," Adam said, rubbing his thumb over Ronan's. "Because I was hoping you might use them to paint something for me, us. In the bedroom? Or the office, I don't know where I would put it yet, but something I can look at whenever I want, if you're not there."
Now it was his turn to bring Ronan's hands to his mouth, and mumbled against his knuckles, "And I have a few more things that wouldn't fit in the pan. Replacements, for another time, when you run out."
"Why not both?" Ronan shrugged, inching closer to rest their foreheads together. "One for the bedroom, one for your office. Hoping you don't get much of a chance to stare at the bedroom one with me not there though. I feel like that needs to be said."
Smirking, he kissed Adam gently and pulled back to look at the paints again. It was a good thing Adam had asked for something painted because there was a chance Ronan would've been hesitant to use them if left to his own devices. They were precious proof that Adam - pragmatic and eternally busy Adam - had spent an impractical amount of time collecting items and making paints for Ronan. And apparently had more in mind.
"Fuck," Ronan sighed, grinning like a dope. "You're not allowed to tell me you're not that creative ever again."
Ronan's grin was infectious, and Adam was trying hard not to let his smile get away from him. He went for carefully amused, and ever-so-nonchalant. "I'm a creative problem solver, there's a difference. I was running out of space, and you can always use more paint, so I figured it out," Adam said, being contrary. Sure, he would never be able to draw anything more than a halfway decent stick figure, and not truly understand what warm and cool tones meant, but there was something to be said about the creativity spawned within each other.
"You're going to be busy this summer, all these side projects. For me," Adam said, bumping noses. "And noted, about the one for the bedroom. Office first. It's, what you would call, boring as fuck in there." The walls were sadly lined with invoice forms and old cork boards, but at least Adam's desk was filled with pictures from the wedding, to candids and everything in between—a balance.
He stepped back, taking another glance at the mural. "I shouldn't keep you when there's still good light out." It was only when he wasn't pressed against Ronan, that Adam noticed that somehow, impossibly, he had paint on him. He drew a finger across the tacky bit of white on his coveralls. "It's contagious," Adam said, before swiping it down Ronan's nose.
Ronan gave a great big – and affectionate - roll of his eyes. It was tempting to cover Adam’s mouth with his hand. But he didn’t want to lose sight of his beautiful smiling face. “You can’t argue this. I have physical proof right here.” He waved the tin in front of Adam’s face. “I’ll save your office from being boring as fuck, but you have to let me have this one.”
He wasn’t thrilled to let go of Adam but they were outside and he knew there were limits to how much he could get away with anyway. Well, logically he knew. But Adam basically declared war swiping paint on his nose and all logic went out the window.
“Oh fuck…see, that was a bad idea…” There were several cans of paint nearby. Luckily, Ronan had done a piss poor of closing the top on one of them. He knocked it off with his knuckles, covered his palm in black paint, and slapped a handprint onto Adam’s ass. “Remember,” he said in a warning tone, close to Adam’s hearing ear, “you started this.”
"I have to go back to work," Adam blurted out, sounding mildly offended and wholly amused. Adam would always hold a part of him in extreme professionalism and courtesy, but it was Ronan that stirred up the side that didn't give a shit about propriety and rules. The side that was the true, honest version of himself. And sometimes that included being a mischievous shithead with his husband outside his shop.
Adam made a show of pulling his coveralls around the best he could to get a better look at the handprint Ronan left behind. "What a waste..." Adam said, trying to wipe it off, only to swing his hand around and leave a matching one on Ronan's ass, and for good measure squeezed. "...that you think I won't finish this, too."
He nipped quickly at Ronan's neck, and then pushed off his chest—leaving another handprint in his wake—getting as much distance between them as he could. Adam backed up, each step faster than the other. "Don't get it on anything inside," was Adam's only warning, and rule, before he turned and booked it.
"Are you kidding? I was counting on it!" Ronan laughed. He loved every Adam there was - the obnoxiously smart one, the one who could eviscerate someone annoying with a handful of words, the one who put bandaids on Opal's skinned knees, even the tightwad one. And he especially loved the mischievous one. He would do any number of ridiculous things to keep that playful glint in Adam's eyes. That spark that said he loved his life as much as Ronan loved him.
Things like grabbing two more handfuls of paint and chasing Adam towards the door. If he moved fast, he could probably give his husband two big boob prints before he could escape inside and Ronan inevitably had to get back to work. And really, there was no better way to get inspired.