An array of various pieces of denim and cotton rained down the room as Ronan searched through his clean clothes pile, then his dirty clothes pile, then back again. They just weren't here. Ronan moved from his room out to the main area in the loft of Monmouth. It was possible he had discarded his clothes shortly after making it into the door.

Gansey was sitting at his desk with some Latin homework and looked up when he heard the stomping and the hurricane of papers, books, and clothes flying all over the room.

"May I ask what my possessions have done to offend you so severely?"

He dropped his pencil and peered over his glasses to watch Ronan move and attack every pile of objects in the vicinity. A large hardcover book slide over to where he was sitting and stopped at his feet.

"Ok, before you ruin all of my research, why don't just tell me what you're looking for? I'll help you look."

Ronan was now half under Gansey's bed frame, with his legs sprawled out.

"I can't find a pair of boxers, my Armani ones."

Gansey didn't quite understand why Ronan was so attached to these particular pair of boxers, but if he had to guess he assumed it had to do with the fact they were Armani and it was probable they were a gift from Niall. Georgio Armani had been Niall's favorite designer, all of his suits had been from him. Declan had taken most of them after his death, which had only stoked the anger that Ronan felt for his brother. He remembered how Ronan had called him the 'textbook example of an empty suit'. Ronan himself had been gifted with various things from his father, practical things that Ronan sometimes did actually wear, like boxers and belts.

"Maybe it's in your car?"

Ronan slid himself out from the bed.

"What the hell makes you think that it'd be in there?"

It had been a simple question, but Ronan had his eyebrows raised and looked slightly panicked.

"I'm just saying sometimes you crash in there, right?"

"Why the fuck would my pants, let alone my boxers, come off?"

"I don't know," Gansey said as he shrugged, "I mean they obviously aren't here so perhaps they fell out of your gym bag."

Ronan seemed pacified by this for a moment, but after a thoughtful moment, realization dawned on his face and he punted a trash bin across the room.

"What is wrong with you?!" Gansey yelled as he got up to retrieve the bin.

Ronan's face was twisted in a scowl that was a gross over reaction for misplacing a pair of boxer, it was typically a scowl of the caliber that he used for Declan. As an answer Ronan stormed back into his room and slammed the door so hard that it shook the surrounding wall.

"So it's going to be one of those days is it," Gansey mumbled to himself as he bent down to pick up the papers and books Ronan had thrown around the room.

Ronan searched his bed for his phone and pounded in a text.

I want them back you fucker

His phone buzzed in response nearly as quickly as he sent it.

HAHAHAHA

Ronan side armed the phone into the wall and grabbed his head with both hands. He hadn't noticed it at first, the uncomfortable chaffing of his jeans when he woke up in the car after the party, there were more pressing issues to deal with, namely the welts he had on his neck.

There was no way in hell he was going to risk questions about the bruises, specifically the question of who had given them to him. It was bad enough he had to ask Gansey for Blue's number (under different circumstances he would have enjoyed the wide eyed look of incredulity at the request) and it was near torture to actually have to talk to her.

"Hello?"

"Hey, can you do me a favor?" He remembered wincing and struggling to get the words out.

"Wait….is this Ronan?" He could hear both the shock that turned to subtle smugness by the time she reached his name.

"No it's the fucking Queen of England."

"How did you even-"

"Can you help me or not?" He sneered, he was losing patience and time quickly.

"I mean I can try, what could you possibly need from me though?"

Ronan paused and breathed deeply, he really, really wished he didn't have to say what he was about to say.

"I need makeup, like cover-up or foundation or whatever."

There was silence on the other end, Ronan could feel Blue trying to understand his request and then the silence morphed into an embarrassing amount of time.

"I need it to cover a bruise."

"Did something happen to Adam again?" There was worry in her voice, the memory of Adam's trip to the hospital was still very fresh.

"It's for me."

"If you got into a fight, it serves you right. I should let you walk around like that."

"I didn't get into a fight. Can you help me or not?" He growled into the phone.

"I guess I could ask Orla-"

"Great. Get over here asap." And then he ended the call.

It had felt like an eternity while he waited for Blue to show up, he took a shower to both kill time and see if cold water would tone down the redness on his neck. All the shower really did was alert him to the fact that his neck wasn't the only place with hickies.

With a tentative knock on the door, Blue cautiously pushed the door open and stuck her head in. Ronan was pulling a black tank top over his head.

"Hurry up, Gansey will be back soon with Parrish.

Ronan turned to her and Blue soon saw the bruises he was talking about.

"Oh my god, Ronan, you look like you got mauled! Wait… are those…hickies?!"

Ronan threw his hands in the air in exasperation, "No fucking shit Sherlock !"

Pointing to his neck he said, "Just take care of this please, no more questions."

Ronan sat down on the edge of his bed in preparation for the application.

"This day needs to be recorded in the history books, today, Ronan Lynch said please."

Ronan gave her one of his most menacing looks but Blue was impervious to them today given the situation, she was going to bask in the glory of this moment.

"Alright," she said pretending to roll up fake sleeves, "I've got my work cut out for me."

Fifteen minutes later and more bickering over whether or not the bruises were properly covered, there was another knock on Ronan's door.

"Ronan, have you seen—Jane?" Gansey said as he opened the door, clearly not expecting to find Blue in Ronan's room of all places. He looked from Ronan, to Blue, then back to Ronan again. Blue was still touching Ronan's neck in a too intimate way, and Ronan quickly pushed her away.

Blue had a wide eyed look on her face, and opened her mouth as if to try and explain, but closed it realizing that this was a situation beyond explanation.

Gansey continued to look at them both and said slowly, "Interestingly enough, this isn't the weirdest thing I've seen today," and turned to leave.

Nino's hadn't made the situation any better. Adam had been looking at him oddly, as if trying to pinpoint what exactly was out of place. Ronan did his best to stay quiet and out of the conversation to arouse the least amount of suspicion, which only ended up drawing more attention. Adam was the only one who really didn't know what was going on; Gansey just pretended he hadn't found Ronan in his car only a few hours ago with a neck full of hickies and Kavinsky's sunglasses on his head, Blue just kept watching and smiling at Ronan's obvious restlessness and discomfort.

As they all filed out of Nino's Adam lagged half a step behind Ronan and in the sunlight, Adam finally realized what was indeed off about Ronan. The cover-up that Blue had used was half a shade too dark and too yellow, and make it look like Ronan had contracted jaundice on his neck.

Adam reached out a finger towards Ronan's neck, "Is that-?"

Ronan whirled around and smacked Adam's hand away, " Why is everyone such a fucking Chatty Cathy today?! I said no fucking questions!"

Adam stood there, hand frozen in mid air still, while Ronan sped off to the Pig and threw himself in the passenger seat, and unfruitfully tried to pull his tank up to his neck.

"What is his deal today?"

Blue and Gansey shared a look. Blues's said when doesn't he have a deal, and Gansey's asked how do we explain this? Blue began laughing and Gansey merely said with a smile, "He's had a bit of a rough morning."

That was why Ronan hadn't noticed that his boxers were missing till today. But he had an idea of how he could get them back, as looked through his clothes again and caught sight of the shiny white plastic frames. He would propose a trade.

He knew exactly where to find Kavinsky, his pack of wolves howled not at the moon, but streetlights. He sat at a rather promising intersection where the strip was road was especially long, perfect for racing. Soon enough he heard the roar of engines and the dull bass line of souped up sound systems vibrating his car.

Ronan buzzed down his window as a white Mitsubishi rolled up next to him. He watched Kavinsky through his already open window, his sharp features created a profile that cut through the darkness.

"So what can I do for you tonight, ?" He said without looking in Ronan's direction, but he could see half of a smirk play out on his face.

"You know damn well what I came here for, I want them back, asshole."

"Language, Lynch." He lazily rolled his head to the side and Ronan got a full view of his face, he gripped the steering wheel tighter, it was taking everything in him not to drag Kavinsky out of his car and beat the smirk off his face.

Ronan reached over to his passenger seat and pulled up the sunglasses in view.

"I want a trade. You get these back, and you give me what's mine."

Cackling was the only response Ronan got.

"A trade only works if both objects are of equal value. And your bartering tool, " he raised an identical pair of glasses for Ronan to see, " is worthless."

Ronan threw the sunglasses in hands through the open window of the Mitsubishi, hitting Kavinsky's arms as he raised them to protect himself from the projectile.

"Jesus Christ, Lynch, you need some serious anger management. I'll tell you what, if you beat me and I mean if, then we'll negotiate."

He had turned to face the street ahead again. This was the best that Ronan was going to get, as much as it pissed him off.

"Fine."

"You know the drill then." Kavinsky began revving his engine. Ronan of course knew he meant they were going on green. He put his hand on the clutch in preparation.

Green.

Kavinsky always managed to get the jump on him, his Evo was always going to be hot out the gate, but Kavinsky fucked up the rapid shift necessary to keep his lead, and his car shuddered and hesitated as Ronan pulled ahead. After so long of pulling the same rookie mistake, Ronan thought he would have finally got the hang of it, Kavinsky had been driving stick longer then he had. A thought creeped into his head for just a moment, was Kavinsky fumbling the shift on purpose?

Fuck that fucking fuck

Ronan pushed the car to its limit making the distance between him and Kavinsky indisputable. In his rearview mirror he saw the Mitsubishi get smaller and a hand jut out the window. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Tomorrow at 3. My house.

It was a start, Ronan decided. He wasn't sure though what exactly he had to negotiate with though. Nothing, since he was really grasping for straws with the sunglasses. He had no drugs, and even if he did, they wouldn't be as good as his supply. Alcohol might be his best bet, but even that he had in unlimited supply of. What the hell was he supposed to use as leverage when Kavinsky had everything he could want?

In the end Ronan had decided on vodka. It was better than going there empty handed, and if Kavinsky didn't like it, well he could go fuck himself and he was going to drink it; win-win. He contemplated showing up late to his house after all the times he kept Ronan waiting, but with Kavinsky sitting there with the upper hand, that probably wasn't the smartest idea.

He didn't even bother ringing the doorbell, it was unlocked and he knew that Mrs. Kavinsky wouldn't give a flying fuck who walked into the house, if she wasn't already preoccupied doing lines in her bathroom. He pushed open the door and made his way down the basement of the house, Kavinsky's lair. As he went down the stairs, he was enveloped in darkness, and he stopped half way down when he heard somebody having very loud sex.

Jesus fucking Christ he can't seriously be..

Ronan saw a fuzzy white glow coming from the base of the stairs. He tentatively finished going down and he was relieved when he saw the top of Kavinsky's head in one of the theater chairs, very much not fucking anyone. Porn was playing on the screen, and Ronan tried very hard not to pay attention to the moaning and smacking of skin on skin going on.

"Loosen up man, please don't tell me this the first time you've seen a titty."

"Other than your mom's you mean?" Ronan's jab rolled off Kavinsky as he shrugged his shoulders in response. He in a seat in the same row as Kavinsky, leaving an empty space between them. He lobed the vodka bottle in Kavinsky's lap.

"I hope you aren't stupid enough to think this is going to get you back your boxers?"

Kavinsky inspected it for a moment before opening it and taking a drink straight from the bottle.

"What the hell is it that you want then? Stop fucking around. I'm not leaving here without them."

Ronan pulled the bottle from Kavinsky's hands and took a drink.

"You're the biggest fucking kill joy, Lynch. I have no idea how Dick puts up with your bitching. I'll show you where it is, but you still need to give me something for them."

Kavinsky lifted himself with the seat, the chair squeaking as his left it, and Ronan watched as he walked to the back of the room to a door.

"Is that your bedroom?" Ronan's stomach turned into a knot, he had never seen Kavinsky's room before.

"In one sense of the word, I prefer to call it my trophy room."

He saw a pair on white teeth smile in the dark, like the Cheshire Cat.

Let your need guide your behavior. Suppress your instinct to lead.

Ronan took another few gulps of the vodka and followed Kavinsky into the hole in the wall.

Kavinsky flipped the light on and when his eyes adjusted to the light, he quickly realized why it was aptly titled, the Trophy Room. Underwear lined the walls of the room; boxers, boy shorts, panties, thongs, all in a rainbow of colors. There was also some stray bras tacked on ad hoc in the mix. The room itself wasn't quite what he had expected, it was relatively small, and there was only a bed and a night stand populating the room. A large box of condoms was tackily and probably purposefully left out. Ronan figured that Kavinsky did very little sleeping here.

"Sometimes I manage to get a complete set," Kavinsky said as Ronan gawked at the walls. Ronan quietly wondered how this was even remotely sanitary, but then he saw his pair of boxers tacked away from the rest, right over the head board of Kavinsky's bed.

Ronan turned around and grabbed Kavinsky's wife beater with both hands and pushed him back into the wall.

Kavinsky made no move to remove Ronan from himself, instead leaning into his face he said, "I was missing one final piece for my collection. I thought you'd be honored."

He threw Kavinsky back into the wall causing his head to snap back against it, then Ronan made move for the bed to snag his boxers from the wall. Kavinsky quickly realized what he was doing and lunged at Ronan's legs, the force of which caused Ronan to lose balance and slam his head into the dark mahogany headboard. Kavinsky clawed his way up on top of Ronan, while Ronan also tried to throw him off his back. More than once someone's head, elbow or knee went into the headboard; they were at that point nothing more than a swirling of limbs. Ronan finally managed to pin Kavinsky down to the bed, straddling him while he had his armed pinned above his head.

"I should steal your shit more often, Lynch if it turns you into a top."

Kavinsky was out of breath from the struggle and Ronan could feel his chest heave into his as he laid on top of him. It wasn't the only thing that Ronan felt, and soon he was going to be just as tight as Kavinsky was obviously now in his crotch.

He was silent as he stared at Kavinsky's lips for several moments too long.

"So you're still going to make me make the first move, huh?"

Kavinsky leaned his faced up to Ronan's and Ronan took care of the rest. Kavinsky tried to break free of his grasp but Ronan bit his lip in retaliation and more tightly clutched his arms together above him. Taking a hand away he dragged it down Kavinsky's side and when he got to the bottom of his torso he snuck his hand just under the wife beater and teased with soft circles right above his belt. Kavinsky responded by lifting his hips up and started a slow grind. Instead of reciprocating, Ronan slipped his hand over Kavinsky's crotch, and tugged hard.

Breaking away from the kiss, Kavinsky moaned in pain, "What the fuck was that for?"

"Payback," Ronan's smile was devious as he sat up and shifted his weight lower down Kavinsky's legs. For a moment, Kavinsky thought he was going to leave and blue ball him again, and he rolled his head back in preparation for his impending frustration. Instead he heard the clicking of his belt being undone.

Before he could make a snarky retort, his chest involuntarily heaved up as he felt a mouth fully engulf him. The tongue snaked around and flicked at the head. Kavisnky shot a hand to grip the headboard and spewed a list of profanities.

Ronan let one of his hands crawl up under his tank while his mouth continued to work and stared to flick the nipple ring that Kavinsky had on his right side.

Kavinsky's arm erratically shot out to the side as he lost his grip on the head board and knocked over a lamp and the box of condoms on the night stand.

"I'm gonna—Fuck" He expelled the last phrased with a moan as he came.

Kavinsky could feel Ronan getting off him and the bed. He was still lying back trying to catch his breath and recover. He saw Ronan standing above him as he leaned over to grab at the boxer above the headboard. His pelvis was close enough to his face that he could see that Ronan was still pretty hard.

"Another round could help you out with that little problem of yours," Kavinsky offered propping himself up on an elbow.

Ronan was already at the door though and he merely said, " I'll take a rain check, K. We're even now, so I'll be taking these back." He waved the boxers in the air as a goodbye.

"No arguments here." Kavinsky plopped back into his pillow and laughed.