[ at like 3am one morning ronan gets a pic of kavinsky's palms, one stitched neatly, both bandaged. the pic's kind of dark, but lit like he's in a club or something. ]
[ even later, bc it was 3am to begin with and he probably went home with someone, and now while they're sleeping he's sitting on their countertop in their kitchen drinking their beer. ]
( he'd better kiss adam, because it's three something am and he's rolling over onto ronan to. squint down at him, one hand curling into a fist and pressing the side of it against his shoulder. )
@joseph.kavinsky
wake up, bitch
look at your boy's nice clean work
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he blinks at the message. studies the photo and: ]
don't drag adam into your shit
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giving me some house rules shit like i ever wanna be trapped in a place with the two of you ever again
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i'm not telling you what to do thats a lost cause
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and then like an hour later: ]
you want someone to
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lol you're not my therapist
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thats a job no one wants
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you don't have a fucking clue
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left a pillow on the couch for you
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fuck you too
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kiss parrish for me
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don't tell me what to do
[ but he will kiss adam, because adam is there and kissable.
and will actually tell him whatever happened. ]
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What?
( he hears you thinking. )
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( because he. can't remember anything else that would have been his handiwork. )
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