Another one 62. It’s only one night we’ll just share the bed. Jiang/Declan
It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed. Also available on AO3
After his father’s death, Declan took on many of his father’s endeavours. He dealt with shady men, traded shady artifacts for money, and sometimes laughed along with them as if he was truly their equal. There were parties, often, a few of them he had to attend, a couple of which were out of state and forced him to spend the night there. In a suit, a pair of expensive shoes, and wearing his best tie, Declan did look very much like his father, a tall striking figure with an enticing smile and a captivating manner of speech.
It was at one of these parties that he saw Jiang without Kavinsky for the first time. Jiang had a glass of champagne, and when their eyes met, Jiang smirked, raised the flute in a silent toast, and downed his drink. Declan did the same.
Three months later they were at another such an event, this time drinking champagne together while talking.
“This time the party is awfully dull,” Jiang noted, looking around the room with a bored expression. “Nobody is trying to start a fight or a riot. How boring.”
“Your idea of ‘not boring’ is intriguing,” Declan shot back with a grin, not looking around the room in search of a companion for the evening. Jiang was more than an intelligent companion. Not only was he that and beautiful, he was intriguing in his own way - Declan still had no idea how andwhy Jiang was at these events.
“You want to get out of here?” Jiang asked, putting the glass down onto a tray that a passing-by waiter carried.
“Where would we go?” the question was answered with a question as Declan put his glass away too.
“I have a few ideas.”
Thirty minutes later they were trying to open the door to Jiang’s hotel room without having to break the kiss. Jiang had Declan pressed against the door as he repeatedly tried to shove the keycard into the slot, too busy with attacking Declan’s lips to actually see what he was doing.
“Jiang,” Declan groaned, feeling around for the handle, “Inside, yes?”
Jiang huffed as he pulled away to finally unlock the door. “Inside, yes.”
Jiang had managed to relieve Declan of his jacket, his tie and his shirt before Declan could take a good look at the hotel room. It was a fancy hotel, that he knew, as the receptionist had been a polite young woman, the elevator had not made weird sounds coming up, and they used a key card to get into the room. There was just one thing he had not expected.
“Jiang, there’s only one bed,” Declan looked down at Jiang, who was rather hurriedly undoing his shoes.
Jiang arched a brow, his hands moving up-up-up to help Declan out of his slacks.
“Yeah? It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed. Relax.”
He pulled Declan’s slacks down with a triumphant grin, but Declan got his attention again, this time by cupping Jiang’s cheek tenderly.
“You think I’ll stay?”
Jiang nuzzled his palm, kissing it and then nipped at the soft skin.
“I know you will.”
“Yeah?” Declan caressed Jiang’s cheek again before letting go of his face. Jiang grinned, rather proud of himself, and got up, shoving Declan onto the big plush bed.
“I’ll make you want to stay, Lynch. Pinky promise.”
Declan did not learn why Jiang was at that party, but he did learn that Jiang kept his promises.
57. Teach me to fight. Skov/Proko, Skov/Kavinsky, Skov/Noah
Teach me how to fight. Skov/Noah. Also on AO3
They were sitting under a tree, Noah leaning against the trunk, Skov on the ground, smoking a cigarette, his head in Noah’s lap, Noah running a hand through Skov’s bubblegum pink hair. It was a nice afternoon - no school, no homework, no worries or cares; the sun was not too bright and the occasional cloud made for a nice sight in the sky.
Noah started humming a song that Skov had heard a few times, coming from Noah’s headphones or when he passed the bathroom while Noah was showering, and Skov opened an eye to look up at the blond.
“What song is that?” he asked, offering Noah his cigarette stub for one last drag. Noah took the stub and simply snuffed it out against the tree.
“Blink-182.”
Skov snorted, shaking his head, eye falling shut again. Of course it was that shitty early 2000s band. He did not mind though as Noah had a soft sweet voice and he would blush every time someone heard him sing. Skov found it endearing.
“Skov?” Noah caressed his cheek and Skov opened his eyes, humming as an answer; yes, he was listening.
“Teach me how to fight.”
Skov sat up, frowning and eyeing Noah up and down. Sure, Noah was not as thin as Kavinsky or as frail as Prokopenko, but he was not a fighter.
“Noah, no offence, but I don’t think you could hurt a fly.”
Noah pouted and gave Skov a whine. “I can’t hurt anyone if you don’t teach me how, but if you taught me how to… I could help you and K the next time things get bad. C’mon, you know I can take a few hits.” He took Skov’s hand and formed a fist with it.
“Hit me. I can take it.”
Skov looked at him and punched him in the shoulder then, not using all of his force. Noah winced, but did not complain about it.
“Okay and now teach me how to hit you back.”
Skov sighed. That would be a long afternoon.
When they arrived back home that evening, Prokopenko nearly dropped what he was carrying (namely Kavinsky) when he saw them.
“What the fuck happened to you!? Did someone beat you up?”
Even Kavinsky turned to look, mouth agape when he saw how both Skov and Noah were covered in bruises and how Skov had a black eye and Noah looked like his nose had only stopped bleeding a couple of minutes ago.
Noah shrugged, wiping his hands clean on his already dirty shirt and wrapped an arm around Skov’s shoulders. “Skov taught me how to fight. I’m improving! Slowly, but still.”
Skov nodded, pressing a kiss to Noah’s unbruised cheek. “He’s learning.”
Soon Prokopenko and Kavinsky were too busy with each other to see Noah and Skov retreating to Noah’s bedroom so that they could bandage each other up, and to kiss the bruises better.
For the pairing and number one 52. “Can I kiss you” Adam/Proko
“Can I kiss you?” Adam/Proko Also available on AO3
When people brought Adam his cars to repair, he was either happy or upset - happy when the problems were easily solved or when he got paid extra for his quick work; upset when the customers complained or when they blamed Adam for their own mistakes. Rarely was he both happy and unhappy with customers.
With Prokopenko, however, he was both. Or maybe he was neither.
“Aaaadam, my car is broken!” Prokopenko called out as soon as he drove into the garage and Adam sighed, scratching his chin. It had only been a week ago when he fixed Prokopenko’s windshield, and it seemed that again something was not working or broken.
“What’s the problem this time?” Adam asked, looking at the car as Prokopenko turned the engine off and got out of the car. “You drove here, so I’m assuming it’s not too bad.”
Prokopenko shrugged, kicking one of the tyres.
“I don’t know. She’s slow, like an old lady. Could you boost her up?”
Adam looked at the car, not really understanding what Prokopenko wanted.
“You want me to… instal nitro or something?”
“Yes!” Prokopenko gave Adam a wicked grin and thumbs up. “Could you?”
Adam shook his head, looking from the car to the silly young man. “Of course not. That’s illegal. How about I check if the oil needs changing.”
Although Prokopenko pouted the entire time Adam changed the oil of his car, he tipped well and did not curse at Adam as he drove away.
Two weeks later, he was back, this time with a dent in his car. Smiling as he always did, Prokopenko described how he rammed a tree and asked Adam to fix the dent.
“You can do it, yeah?” He asked, a few feet away from Adam, trying to peek over Adam’s shoulder at his car. “She’ll be okay, yes?”
Adam patted the dent a bit, humming. “I guess. More or less, at least. I’ll fix her by tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay!” Prokopenko reached out to pat Adam’s shoulder and Adam tensed, but let it happen. Prokopenko noticed, and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. A bad habit. Boys keep telling me I’m really touchy feely, but I can’t help it. A hug makes everything better, you know.” He shrugged, so boyish that Adam felt a cold envy towards Prokopenko for having friends like that. Adam himself could not see Ronan and Gansey giving him hugs for no reason. Noah, perhaps, Gansey with a good enough reason, maybe, but Ronan never.
“Just warn me the next time,” Adam said before turning back to work.
Months later, Prokopenko found Adam asleep in the car he was supposed to fix. Instead of waking him, Prokopenko climbed into the passenger seat and curled up as well, not minding some quality nap time. But Adam’s snores were loud enough to keep him awake, and Adam’s sleepy face was serene and pretty, and Prokopenko did not dare to look away.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, barely audible.
Adam, who was asleep, did not hear.
Time passed. Prokopenko came and went, and Adam became more used to him. Sometimes Prokopenko talked while Adam repaired his car, and sometimes they just sat around, helping each other with homework.
“Hey, Adam?” Prokopenko asked during one of such afternoons. “Do you like guys?”
Adam’s head snapped up and he looked at Prokopenko, very confused, but also flustered and scared. “W-why would you ask that?”
Prokopenko shrugged, continuing to write down his answers. “My friend thinks you’re cute. But he’s a guy. I’m just wondering if I should tell him he’ll never have a shot at you.”
Blushing, Adam shook his head, turning back to his homework. “I like guys, yeah.” After a while, he added, “But tell Kavinsky I’m not into him. Really, he’s hot and all, but I would rather date someone who has a clear head.”
Adam didn’t see Prokopenko’s little smile or his flushed cheeks.
“Adam?” Prokopenko and Adam were lying on the grass, a few blocks from where Adam worked. Prokopenko had insisted on a picnic, but all Adam wanted was a nap. They had compromised.
“Hm?” Adam’s eyes were closed and he did not wish to open them.
“Can I kiss you?”
Adam did not open his eyes as he thought it over. He knew Prokopenko was very touchy-feely and that he liked hugs. Still, he had thought of them as only friends.
“I- I guess.” he finally said, sighing when almost immediately a quick kiss was placed on his lips. Adam wasted no time in pulling Prokopenko into another kiss, this time slower and calmer.
“You know,” Swan looked at Skov who was lying face down on his bed, diagonally so that Swan could not possibly fit himself anywhere, “You’re being kind of a dick right now.”
Skov decided to answer simply - he farted loudly and laughed before Swan could make a grossed out face.
“That’s fucking gross.”
Skov kept laughing and Swan watched, sighing. “You should be glad that we’re best friends. If you were someone else, I would have thrown you off my bed.”
“You love me.” Skov stated, turning onto his back, smiling to Swan.
“I love many people.”
Huffing, Skov kept looking at Swan and watched how Swan dressed; how he pulled on a pair of jeans that were just skinny enough, how he pulled on a white shirt, how his nimble fingers buttoned the shirt, how Swan took his time to do his tie properly, how he shrugged on a suit jacket. With all of those clothes on, one would never think that under the clothes Swan had dozens of tattoos and a lot of bruises that came and went.
“I’m dying,” Skov said quietly. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”
“You tell that to everyone?” Swan patted down his hair and went to Skov, leaning down to kiss him quickly, biting Skov’s lower lip gently to remind him - I am going to be late; I don’t have time for you right now.
“Only the pack,” Skov mumbled, wiping his lip, curling up on Swan’s bed again. “If you see anyone downstairs, tell them I want cuddles.”
Swan nodded, taking his rucksack and throwing it onto his shoulder. When he got downstairs, he called out Skov’s wish to whomever who could hear, and then left the house. If anyone did go cuddle Skov, he would have been none the wiser.
