[Water fills the pot, and the stove clicks on, and Adam waits for the water to boil with his back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.
He's taking in Ronan, his body language and the expression on his face, and he's trying to figure him out. Trying to read what's going on in that mind of his-- that quick witted, tortured brain that Adam always feels like he's close to cracking but never quite.]
I'm not swooning. [But he kind of is. And damn Ronan for catching it. Asshole.
And the bubbles start in the water, little things at the bottom of the pot and Adam Parrish is not a man of patience. He does not wait for those bubbles to reach the top, just dumps the pasta in. He looks around for a spoon to mix it, ultimately opening a drawer and fishing one out. Nice.
With his free hand, he grasps for Ronan. His fingers twine with his boyfriend's. Chaste, or whatever.] There's no point in holding off. Just tell me, Lynch. [Last names. Because first names are too lovey-dovey.]
no subject
He's taking in Ronan, his body language and the expression on his face, and he's trying to figure him out. Trying to read what's going on in that mind of his-- that quick witted, tortured brain that Adam always feels like he's close to cracking but never quite.]
I'm not swooning. [But he kind of is. And damn Ronan for catching it. Asshole.
And the bubbles start in the water, little things at the bottom of the pot and Adam Parrish is not a man of patience. He does not wait for those bubbles to reach the top, just dumps the pasta in. He looks around for a spoon to mix it, ultimately opening a drawer and fishing one out. Nice.
With his free hand, he grasps for Ronan. His fingers twine with his boyfriend's. Chaste, or whatever.] There's no point in holding off. Just tell me, Lynch. [Last names. Because first names are too lovey-dovey.]