#adamronan

They had been living together since the summer after senior year in high school. Adam hadn’t thought much would change just because they had a legal document that said they were married, but everything was different now.  Everything was theirs.

Adam Parrish was now Adam Lynch, for one. Ronan still called him Parrish sometimes, but only when he was stressed.

“They don’t have the cake, Parrish,” Ronan said over the blaring hold music. He scrubbed his face with the hand not holding the phone.

Adam frowned. He didn’t think Gansey would actually be upset that they didn’t have a cake from Royal’s, but he knew it was important to Ronan to bring a kickass cake to the party. He’d been feeling left out since Gansey’s wedding. Namely because Ronan had gotten himself kicked out of the reception for drinking enough whiskey to think punching Mr. Gray was a good idea. To be fair, Adam hadn’t told him it wasn’t.

But it did make it difficult to get invited to Gansey-Sargent gatherings.

That wasn’t fair, in Adam’s opinion. Ronan had been Gansey’s family much longer than Blue had. Gansey hated the state of things, and his peace offering had been that Ronan got to bring his birthday cake, a tradition usually reserved for Mrs. Gansey.

Adam set down his tablet (Ronan referred to it as his “expensive-ass newspaper reader”) and stood from his bench. Ronan slumped onto the table as Adam rounded the corner, but stiffened when Adam’s lips met the cool skin of his neck.

His hands moved over Ronan’s sun-warmed shoulders, gently working at the knots there. Extracurriculars at Harvard had been just posh enough that slipping in some massage therapy classes hadn’t been difficult to tack onto his course load. In fact, they were some of the most useful classes he’d taken. His husband had a hatred for letting strangers near him and a lot of tight muscles.

Of course, Adam planted plenty of kisses along the way to help, and this morning was no exception. His lips feathered at the nape of Ronan’s neck, around the side to where Ronan pinned his face with his shoulder. Ticklish. Adam grinned and kept right on going.

There was a crackle from his phone, and Ronan jostled, but Adam didn’t relent.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the woman on the phone said. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Ronan Lynch,” Ronan said in a strangled voice.

“Yes, well.” The woman paused for a long moment. “We don’t have an order under that name. You said you placed it last Thursday?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know who you spoke to?”

“A fucking per—” Adam nipped at his jaw and Ronan swallowed. “I spoke to a nice lady.”

“Hm.” There was shuffling on the line.

“Ask her if there was an order placed on Saturday,” Adam whispered.

“Fuck off, I ordered it Thursday,” Ronan whispered back.

He moved his lips to Ronan’s ear. “Ask her, babe.”

He felt Ronan shiver and his skin turn to gooseflesh under Adam’s fingers.

Ronan cleared his throat. “Hey, you got an order placed on Saturday under Lynch?”

“Let me…oh, yes. Is there an Adam there? Adam Lynch?”

It was still strange to hear his new name, but Ronan swelled at the sound of it. “Yeah.”

“Yes! Light blue buttercream frosting with white piping. Yes, yes, that one is ready.”

Adam smiled as Ronan’s arm hooked around the back of his thigh and held him in place.

“Thanks,” Ronan said. “I’ll pick it up in an hour.”

Adam’s teeth grazed Ronan’s ear.