Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5514245.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Raven_Cycle_-_Maggie_Stiefvater
  Relationship:
      Ronan_Lynch/Adam_Parrish, Richard_Gansey_III/Ronan_Lynch/Adam_Parrish
  Character:
      Ronan_Lynch, Adam_Parrish, Richard_Gansey_III
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Sex_Work, Street_Racing, Sex_Toys, Overstimulation,
      Rimming, Biting, Praise_Kink, Threesome_-_M/M/M
  Series:
      Part 2 of the_kids_aren't_alright
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-24 Completed: 2016-01-12 Chapters: 11/11 Words: 36472
****** put your curse in reverse ******
by interropunct
Summary
     Ronan was getting by in life despite the overabundance of money,
     alcohol and nightmares. Then he picked up a guy off the street in a
     seedy part of D.C. one night. The guy's name was Adam and he was
     going to change everything.
     Companion fic to blessed_be_the_boys from Ronan's POV. But you don't
     need to read that first to understand this.
Notes
     This fic is complete and new chapters should be posted every Tuesday/
     Thursday/Sunday. Thanks to @brujeriiia on tumblr for being a
     fantastic beta!!
     Specific warnings for this chapter: Mentions of past Ronan/Kavinsky
     and Ronan/Gansey, mentions of alcohol abuse.
***** bring on the rapture *****
When Ronan turned eighteen he inherited three million dollars and a home he
couldn’t use. At the time it nearly killed him: the freedom, the helpless
power, the longing for things he couldn’t have. Gansey was the only thing that
kept him going, kept him from drinking himself into an early grave, kept him
from wasting all his money on things he didn’t want or need. There was one
particularly long and terrible jag, where Ronan vomited more alcohol and bile
than his body could have ever held, and he missed his father and his mother and
Matthew and, hell even Declan, like a hole in his chest. Afterwards, he’d
walked into a lawyer’s office, narrowly avoided getting thrown out, and signed
a piece of paperwork officially giving Gansey control over his personal assets.
The lawyer clearly thought he was crazy, signing away all his money to some kid
who had more money than he knew what to do with, but it was the best decision
Ronan had ever made.
 
Gansey, with the help of his father’s financial advisor, invested the money
right alongside his own inheritance. The interest and dividends were enough to
live on, more than enough really, if he didn’t spend it on useless shit. Gansey
bought the top floor of a building in D.C. and charged Ronan minimal rent. And
he stayed in town most of the time, keeping an eye on Ronan, keeping him
grounded, but just when Ronan was doing better, Gansey would jet off to
someplace else and leave the apartment as haunting and empty as Ronan’s
insides.
 
Ronan let the world spin around him. He ran across some street racers on his
twenty-first birthday and that turned into a thrilling, dangerous, life-
affirming mess. After, there was a restraining order that neither of them kept
to and fewer nightmare creatures tripping over the booby traps Ronan had set up
around the loft. Things were… better. For a while at least.
 
Ronan travelled some with Gansey but he always started to feel that sick sense
of being too far from home. His dreams would get hazy and disconnected and
normal . He didn’t like waking up without thinking about what might be in his
hands.
 
Twenty-four hit him hard. It was almost twenty-five, and never, through all of
his darkest days, had Ronan ever thought he would live to be twenty-five. Now
it was encroaching and his hands itched. He took to driving the BMW in aimless
circles for whole days at a time. He only felt alive with the growl of the
engine under his feet, even when Kavinsky was nowhere to be found, and really
the BMW was still the closest he could get to home.
 
Ronan finally answered Gansey’s calls on the second day because his back was
aching from sleeping in the car and he wanted to hear his best friend’s voice.
Gansey, the traitor, proceeded to drag Ronan back to the apartment through
sheer commanding tone. Once there, Ronan was bullied into the shower, made to
sit patiently while Gansey buzzed his hair and then guilted into cleaning up
his car. The second part was actually nice, his hair had been getting a little
long. And this last part was done with next to no complaint because honestly,
Ronan cared significantly more about the state of his car than the state of
anything else including the apartment. He then collapsed into his huge, soft,
proper,  perfect  bed and slept for a whopping (for him) nine hours before
waking at eleven to Gansey’s light snores.
 
Before the itch in his veins could turn into an itch for a bottle, Ronan was
out and back on the street. There was something darkly pulsing and alive about
a city after dark, especially the seedier neighborhoods. Ronan loved it. He
drove from one sleeping tourist trap to the next, reveling in the filth and
shadows in between. Unconsciously, his foot eased off the gas pedal and the car
slowed. He passed two girls on a street corner, tight shirts and short skirts
advertising exactly what they were selling. Ronan didn’t slow down.
 
He didn’t slow down as he passed a boy the next street over either. He was
standing under a streetlamp, the forced casual set of his arms speaking as
clearly as the girls’ outfits. Ronan turned right at the end of the next block.
Then, not thinking about it, he turned right again. By the time he turned left,
back on the boy’s street going the opposite direction, a thought was
formulating in his mind. He stopped and rolled the window down.
 
“Hey!” he called, over the ever-present music as his pulse started to thunder
like the moment before waking from a nightmare.
The guy walked over slowly and Ronan almost lost his nerve. Ronan didn’t hear
what the guy said, only saw his mouth move.
“Do you fuck?” he asked, eyes caught on long fingers curled over the window and
into the car.
“No.” It was sharp and final but before Ronan could even pull a ‘go fuck
yourself’ sneer onto his face the next words were coming. “But I can suck you
off.”
The guy was beautiful. The harsh yellow light of the streetlamps turned his
cheeks into sharp shadows and his hair into shining dusty filament. Ronan
couldn’t imagine being able to touch such a creature.
 
His mouth, unheeded, was asking, “How much?”
“Fifty.” Not much, although Ronan had no idea what things like this were
supposed to cost.
“Where?” he asked, because it seemed wrong for this beautiful boy to get on his
knees in the filthy alleys Ronan had been appreciating not ten minutes before.
“Wherever you want.” came the reply.
“Get in.” he said, unlocking the doors. Now the thrumming in his veins was back
a thousand fold. Ronan was about to vibrate out of his skin and he jerked the
car back into movement just to feel the engine purr.
He didn’t really know the area so he drove in the direction that felt right
until they hit on a hotel. He didn’t really want to leave the safety of the
car, which of course meant he forced himself out of it almost before it
finished moving. He listened for the barely there thump of the guy’s footsteps
behind him.
 
Ronan got them a room and got into it in record time. Or what he assumed was
record time. It seemed pretty fast.
Once in the room he proceeded to question every single thought that had led him
here. This was not a dream, he couldn’t control anything here. And it wasn’t
drunken, vicious groping with Kavinsky or sloppy, late-night kisses with Gansey
when they were still mostly kids. This was some nameless dude sucking him off
in a hotel room.
“You have a name?”
“Ronan.”
 
This wasn’t the thrilling kind of dangerous. This was alcohol poisoning
dangerous. This was fighting with Declan for the last time before he left. This
was washing dirt and night horror blood off his hands while Gansey slept.
 
It was stupid and pointless and not really dangerous at all if he was being
honest. Yeah, it was technically illegal but Ronan had done worse and he was
fairly certain this guy was not a cop. But it still felt like a risk.
“You still want to do this?”
“Yes.” Ronan snapped automatically. Fuck this guy for second guessing him, even
if Ronan was second guessing himself. Not letting himself think about it more,
Ronan yanked off his shirt and turned to face him. Looking at him was actually
reassuring. It reminded Ronan why he wanted to do this in the first place. He
unzipped his fly and flicked open his button, feeling like the uncertain energy
and doubt and  want  were going to engulf him.
 
The boy crossed the room and kneeled in front of Ronan, as if it was that easy.
As if there was nothing strange or dirty or wrong about any of this. Maybe for
him there wasn’t.
Ronan tried to control his breathing as he pulled out his cock. But the instant
the guy took Ronan in hand and guided Ronan’s dick into his mouth, easy and
careful, Ronan’s breath rushed out of him.
 
His hands found their way into the guy’s hair and it was just as soft as it
looked, smooth against Ronan’s palms. There was just enough to hold onto which
was good because otherwise Ronan thought he might do something drastic.
Ronan had never given much thought to virginity. It was useless high school
bullshit and Ronan didn’t give a shit. He liked getting himself off but
involving other people seemed more messy than it was worth. Now though, the
guy’s tongue ran along the underside of his cock and Ronan suddenly felt like
he might have been missing a crucial bit of information about what sex was all
about.
 
He couldn’t process everything, couldn’t get past the wet heat and the savage
pleasure of it. He was paralyzed by the feeling of someone else’s hands on him,
someone else’s mouth. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the guy, from the
fine-boned beauty of him. Something about him reminded Ronan of a bird in
flight, effortless beating of wings and his hair like dusty feathers between
Ronan’s fingers.
 
A choked off noise issued, unbidden, from Ronan’s mouth as he felt the head of
his cock brush the back of the guy’s throat. He let go of his grip on the boy’s
hair for a moment, shocked into helpless movement. Then immediately gripped it
again, not yet ready to feel like he was slipping off the edge of the world
once more. But he found, to his surprise, that he felt grounded.
 
The guy looked up and Ronan met his eyes. They were blue like sun illuminating
a deep well, like the night sky through a telescope. Looking at him was like
slamming on the brakes, force and energy, body tensing. Ronan bit his lip to
stop from crying out. Everything was a fever dream: bright and sharp, just on
the edge of too much.
 
His orgasm bubbled and burned in his gut, heating him until he thought he might
burst. He forced his hands to relax and tried to get his mouth to form a
warning. But Ronan’s body was no longer his own, it belonged to the boy
kneeling before him. The guy pulled back a little as Ronan tensed and came.
Everything felt hot: his pulsing dick, his sweaty palms; his eyes on fire.
 
The guy pulled away completely and Ronan scrubbed at his eyes, trying to push
out the pain. Then he ran his hand over his head. God, he was a sweaty mess. He
kept his eyes closed as he pulled his pants back on and grabbed for his shirt.
 
But no. He dropped the shirt and threw himself on the bed just as the first
tear slipped down his face. He didn’t know what was happening. He wasn’t sad.
He wasn’t  crying . But his eyes were watering and the guy was still standing
there and Ronan didn’t want to have to explain, well, anything really.
 
“Take your money.” he said, gesturing to where he’d left his wallet. He blinked
rapidly into the dark space between his arm and the bedspread. He listened to
the rustle of bills and then the quiet footsteps and finally the click of the
door shutting.
 
Now that he was alone the embarrassment eased and he could breathe again. And
the thing was, he breathed easier than he had in weeks. Not physically.
Physically, he was still sweating and just this side of panting. But deeper,
beneath his heaving lungs, there seemed to be more space in his chest cavity,
as though all the junk and debris had been removed.
As the sweat and tears dried, Ronan slid quietly into sleep.

He woke up with handfuls of deep blue flowers.
***** the rush in my veins *****
Chapter Summary
     This seemed too easy, Ronan thought, a few blocks away. When had
     Ronan’s life ever been that fucking easy?
     But there, under the exact same streetlight, on the corner of
     Stafford and 21st, was he. Ronan wanted to crow in glorious victory.
     He didn’t know exactly what he had won, but it felt as though the
     universe was down one in their constant battle. Ronan pulled to a
     stop.
     “Hey.” The guy’s voice was milk and honey and just a tiny hint of
     cinnamon. Ronan wanted to hear more of it.
     “Hey.”
     “How can I help you tonight?” It was casual and polite and had to be
     completely sarcastic. Ronan barked a laugh before he could stop
     himself.
     “What do you think I want?” Ronan said and it was meant to be teasing
     but it came out sleazy and strange. Ronan grimaced. “Same price?” he
     asked quickly.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Ronan was not a liar. So if anyone had asked, he would have told them that he
dreamt of the boy every night. If they asked about his plans, he would tell
them he slept through the afternoons so he could spend all evening into early
morning driving slowly through all the crappy neighborhoods he could find. But
lucky for Ronan, no one knew to ask.
 
He knew it was weird. Sure, the boy had been pretty but Ronan had seen pretty
guys before. Hell, trolling these areas he’d seen other boys just as pretty,
probably willing to do just as much if not more. But Ronan wasn’t looking for
an orgasm, or a pretty face, he was looking for a moment of peace and some part
of him believed he would only find it again if he found that boy.
 
As the week wore on Ronan started to fray. First it was snapping at service
workers if they did even the tiniest thing wrong. Then it was snapping before
they’d done anything wrong. Then, when Gansey called him an asshole for it, it
was snapping at Gansey.
 
Ronan hadn’t told him what he’d been spending his nights doing. He’d just been
disappearing and Ronan knew Gansey was worried about him. But he couldn’t get
over the idea that if he just found the guy again he’d be… who knows, better?
Safe? Okay for a little while? None of that made sense but that had been what
it had felt like to be with that guy so Ronan kept chasing it.
He got a text from Kavinsky around 11:00PM on Friday.
hey shitsqueak you ready to lose?
 
It had been a week. If he didn’t find the guy tonight he probably wasn’t going
to. Ronan felt wound tight and anxious, skin too tight and clothes too rough.
i’d say bet your car on it but I dont want that japanese piece of shit
Ronan checked out the areas where he’d seen the most late night street traffic
over the past week. Then, as the clock slid into the AMs, he checked back where
he’d met the guy the week before. This seemed too easy, Ronan thought, a few
blocks away. When had Ronan’s life ever been that fucking easy?
 
But there, under the exact same streetlight, on the corner of Stafford and 21
st , was he. Ronan wanted to crow in glorious victory. He didn’t know exactly
what he had won, but it felt as though the universe was down one in their
constant battle. Ronan pulled to a stop.
“Hey.” The guy’s voice was milk and honey and just a tiny hint of cinnamon.
Ronan wanted to hear more of it.
“Hey.”
“How can I help you tonight?” It was casual and polite and had to be completely
sarcastic. Ronan barked a laugh before he could stop himself.
“What do you think I want?” Ronan said and it was meant to be teasing but it
came out sleazy and strange. Ronan grimaced. “Same price?” he asked quickly.
 
The guy nodded and got it. In time with the door closing Ronan felt his phone
buzz, no doubt a text from Kavinsky asking where the fuck he was. Whatever, he
was on his way now, Kavinsky could fucking wait. But he may have sped to get on
the quickest highway heading out of town toward their usual racing spot.
 
“Where are we going?” the guy asked after a minute.
“I’ve got somewhere to be.” Ronan said, to cover up the fact that he hadn’t
actually thought this far. What the fuck was he going to do with this guy once
he got to the drag strip?
“I didn’t agree to that.” Ronan looked over at the guy. He was taut, caught
between fight and flight. It was a look Ronan knew all too well.
“I’ll pay you double.” Ronan said quickly, not really seeing what this guy’s
problem was. Did he think Ronan would just leave him to find his own way home?
“And I’ll drop you wherever you want when we’re done.”
 
“Fine.” But he sounded pissy. Whatever, he agreed and Ronan had the money so it
didn’t really matter. Then after a second, as if it had just occurred to him,
he said, “Ronan.”
“Yeah, what about it?” Ronan asked, because when he’d said it, the word had
almost sounded like another word entirely and it reminded Ronan of something.
 
“Nothing. Just... someone’s going to come looking for me.”
Ronan snorted, because what the fuck did that mean? He had a fucking curfew?
“Sure, dude.” He just barely bit back the ‘I’ll have you home by nine’ because
this wasn’t some high school date and the guy probably wouldn’t appreciate the
comparison very much.
Then it occurred to him that it might be some kind of threat. Have to be back
or else. Did this guy have a pimp? Ronan didn’t really like that idea but
whatever, wasn’t his business, wasn’t his problem.
 
Now that he was actually here, Ronan didn’t know what to do. He wanted so much,
wanted to look his fill, wanted to hear that hint of a southern drawl the boy
kept biting back, wanted to touch and be touched. Mostly, though, Ronan wanted
to know his  fucking name . It had been bothering Ronan for an entire week, not
having a name to go with the face. Maybe the guy hadn’t introduced himself on
purpose, maybe it was bad form to ask for someone’s name with a transaction
like this. But Ronan kind of didn’t give a shit about whatever niceties existed
in this fucked up social space.
 
“So, what’s your…” He left the sentence hanging for the guy to fill in the
rest. But the guy just made a noise like he didn’t get it. Shit, had Ronan
accidently picked up an idiot? “What’s your name?” Ronan asked, maybe ruder
than he meant to.
 
“Adam.” he said. Ronan wondered, briefly if it was a fake name. It sounded nice
and wholesome which might have been some kind of joke, like a stripper named
Steve Rogers, or maybe it was a subtle ‘you don’t know me from Adam, so fuck
off’. Either way Ronan really didn’t have anything else to go on so he took
whatever Adam was willing to give him and accepted it as fact.
 
Adam, Ronan decided as they fell into silence, was a nice name even if it was
fake.
 
Ronan made the last half-hour of the trip in twenty minutes as he tried to
figure out what the fuck he was going to when he got there. Mostly, he just
wanted to show Adam this thing, this glorious thrilling thing that he knew how
to do. It was stupid, but it felt a little like Ronan owed Adam for making him
feel good last week. This was the best way besides booze that Ronan knew to
make himself happy. He didn’t know yet how the sex was going to factor in.
Before? After? Not at all? Sex was kind of heavily implied but was it mandatory
or just a suggested guidelines kind of thing?
 
Ronan wished he knew more about this shit. But honestly he knew more random
facts about sex work in ancient Mesopotamia than he did about this situation.
He wondered if Adam would be interested in the fact that people used to fuck
priestesses in temples to honor gods and then give corresponding ‘gifts’ to the
temples.
 
The strip coalesced on the horizon, rising into a mass of cars and bodies and
substances that could put you in the hospital. He glanced over at Adam who was
eyeing the scene warily, gaze sharp and evaluative. No, Ronan thought, no way
this kid was an idiot.
 
Ronan had forgotten about Kavinsky until he saw the ugly knife graphic
illuminated by the waiting cars. Shit, he thought, as his pulse soared, what
the fuck was Kavinsky going to think? And then, of course, he reminded himself
that he sincerely did not give a shit. He drove up alongside Kavinsky.
 
“Hey motherfucker!” Ronan called. A middle finger was Kavinsky’s thrilling
rejoinder. “You ready for a re-match?” Ronan asked, well aware of the answer.
He and Kavinsky were always ready for a fight.
 
“You got yourself a cheerleader this time, shithead?”
Ronan bit back a laugh because as usual Kavinsky didn’t know what the fuck he
was talking about. He shot a smile at Adam like he would have if Gansey had
been there. He’d only actually brought Gansey once, but it had felt like this:
alive and pulsing, stinging with electricity. Racing was different with someone
in the passenger seat.
“Something like that.”
 
Ronan carefully nosed through the crowd toward the starting line. He could feel
his pulse in his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, pounding in time with
the music. He could feel the car like an extension of his body, metallic limbs
crouching over the asphalt ready to leap forward. It was a dull thought in the
back of his mind that registered his hardening dick. Then it raced to the front
of his mind as he became aware again of Adam next to him, hands covering the
ragged knees of his jeans.
 
“You ready?” he said, even as the thought was forming in his head. Adam didn’t
say anything for a second, too caught up in watching the people buzz around the
car like gnats. Then:
“What?”
“You ready to go?” he said and this time made a vague gesture.
“What? Now?” Adam asked and Ronan didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. All
he knew was that he felt like he was going to start flying as soon as his foot
hit the gas, just fucking achieve lift off and never come back to this shitpile
of a planet. But he was also thinking about Adam’s mouth on his dick last week
and the strange shaky peace of mind he’d had afterwards.
“Yeah now. That’s kind of the point.” Ronan said, practically hearing the
refusal even as he said it. But instead Adam just said, “Oh. Okay.” As if it
was that simple. Ronan’s internal RPM ticked up another notch.
 
Ronan edged the car a few feet forward as Adam curled over the gearshift. He
felt his knuckles brush Adam’s stomach and somehow that felt more intimate than
Adam pulling Ronan’s cock out of his pants.
 
Kavinsky’s laugh echoed from the Mitsubishi. “I always knew your friends were
cocksuckers!” Kavinsky shouted but already Adam’s mouth was turning everything
in Ronan’s ears into heated buzzing, like wasps without the fear. He saw the
flag girl raising her arm and everything in Ronan thrilled to see it. The flag
came down.
 
The wheels spun for a fraction of a second before catching and then Ronan was
thrown back in his seat as the car shot forward like a bullet to the gut. A
little bit of Adam’s spit slipped from his mouth and slid hot and slick down
Ronan’s balls. He let the movement echo through him as he bumped them into the
next gear.
 
“Come and get me asshole.” And he meant to shout it, meant it to be a taunt to
Kavinsky but instead it came out low and real, a snarled dare to every fucking
demon that couldn’t touch him as long as he had the BMW around him and Adam’s
tongue on him.
 
Sliding into 3 rd  came as easy as breathing, but it took a little more effort
to track Kavinsky shooting along beside them. Usually this moment was all about
him and Kavinsky, rivalry singing in the growl of the car engines. But now the
world had narrowed to Adam and BMW and just a tiny sliver of white at the
corner of Ronan’s eye.
 
And then the sliver disappeared into blackness as Kavinsky fucked up the shift
into 4 th , just like he always did. Ronan almost didn’t notice because Adam
was sucking hard on his cock and God, Ronan wanted to shout, wanted to scream.
He clenched his fists and every muscle in his body with the urge to  keep going
, to race the rotation of the earth.
 
He urged the car faster, not too fast, just enough to hear the engine start to
hum sweeter than a church choir. And then it was just him and Adam and the dark
road. The thrill of the chase, of Kavinsky somewhere behind them, was still
there but mostly it was speeding through the night for the pure joy of it.
 
Then there was a scrape of teeth and a burst of something paler than pain. And
Ronan couldn’t bare it. He howled his pleasure, shouted wordlessly at the
absolute carefree perfection of the moment as he urged the car just a little
bit faster until it whined in protest.
 
It was the opposite of last time. He wasn’t grounded. He was lifting off. He
could barely feel the seat beneath him, only felt the steering wheel, the gear
shift, and Adam. The music died away as the playlist ended and then there was
just the wind on his face and the sides of the road whipping past the edge of
the headlights’ halo.
 
Adam’s mouth was hot and insistent, and Ronan wanted to touch him, wanted to
watch him, but he also wanted to keep going, to drive off the edge of the
world. Ronan couldn’t stop little wounded noises as Adam took Ronan’s cock
deeper and sucked harder. It was wet, saliva slipping between Adam’s fingers.
His grip was tight and his mouth was hot and the road started to fuzz in front
of his eyes, going unfocused and far away.
 
It was dangerous and stupid and Ronan loved it, never wanted it to end. But
carefully, as the pleasure built, he let off the gas and felt the car’s roar
die into a deep grinding purr. The night disappeared behind his eyelids for
long seconds before he pulled them open again.
 
Road.
 
Blackness and the back of Adam’s throat.
 
Road and the grind of the rumble strip.
 
Darkness.
 
Road as the scenery became less blur and more shapes.
 
Nothing but shivery pleasure coiling tighter and tighter.
 
The car drifted to a stop and Ronan’s hand immediately fell from the steering
wheel to the back of Adam’s head.  Yes .
 
He came, shuddering, just on the edge of falling apart. Again his eyes prickled
and he tipped his head back so the wetness he wouldn’t call tears rolled down
and into his hair. He knew once was a fluke but twice meant this was probably
just something he did.
 
Ronan Lynch cried during sex.
 
It sounded like something Kavinsky would say, which was fine, because Ronan
didn’t give a shit about Kavinsky or about the voice at the back of Ronan’s
mind that sounded a lot like him. Dude was an asshole. Adam pulled away.
 
“Fuck.” Ronan breathed. Then he met Adam’s eyes and there was something there.
Something keen and interested and  alive . It made Ronan grin. This guy was
something else. “Okay.” he said, after catching his breath just a bit. He
tucked his dick back in his pants and zipped them up.
 
Then he pulled back onto the road and took the next exit going back toward the
city. He turned the music back on to fill the silence but it was just
background noise. He kept looking at Adam out of the corner of his eye, eyeing
his loose shirt and tight jeans, cataloguing the sprawl of his legs and the
forcibly loose line of his shoulders.
 
Ronan Lynch didn’t do anything by half measures. He went to church every
Sunday, not just holidays. He drove too fast. He loved Gansey too much. He
dreamt of all the things the world was missing and woke up holding the
impossible. Ronan knew what he knew, wanted what he wanted and made shit
happen.
 
And now, here was something he knew: this had to happen again. And here was
something he wanted: Adam. And this was what he was going to do: make shit
happen.
He followed Adam’s instructions to a somewhat dingy neighborhood. It wasn’t as
bad as the place Ronan picked him up from but it looked… tired.
 
Ronan handed over the money and opened his mouth to say something but Adam was
already nodding and getting out of the car.
 
“Adam,” he said, tone a tad desperate as he turned down the music. Ronan never
turned down the music if he could help it. He made himself relax, like in a
dream: go from imagination to memory to reality. “Next Friday?”
 
Adam nodded easily and Ronan pulled away from the curb.
 
He took the long way home, but still got there in half the time. Gansey was
awake, pouring over some maps and placing found objects in their place of
origin. He didn’t ask where Ronan had been, just carefully checked him over for
illness or injury before letting him go up to bed. But it was pointless, there
was no way Ronan was getting to sleep tonight or maybe ever.

He wanted to be flying, falling, dreaming of doing something that could kill
him. But instead he read journal articles on Latin translations of sacred texts
long past the sunrise.
Chapter End Notes
     So I was looking at Google Maps of D.C. trying to find an
     intersection that sounded real. Found Stafford and 21st. Guess what
     is actually on that intersection: St. Agnes Church, I shit you not.
     Also, message me if you want a fascinating article on prostitution in
     ancient Mesopotamia! (Because I, like Ronan, am a nerd.)
***** stuck in the jet wash *****
Chapter Summary
     Adam stepped forward and Ronan’s body warred between flinching away
     (‘you’re dangerous, don’t touch him,’ his weary mind said) and
     relaxing into it (‘I’m safe, it’s okay,’ Adam’s eyes seemed to
     argue). And in the moment of indecision Adam reached a hand out to
     gently touch Ronan’s hip and brushed his other fingertips over
     Ronan’s cheek. It felt like redemption.
Chapter Notes
     I went over this fic with a fine-toothed comb trying to make sure
     there weren't any contradictions between this and "blessed be the
     boys" but if you notice anything wrong, please tell me!!
Fall was Ronan’s favorite season. The curling heat of summer turned mild and
manageable. Gansey dragged Ronan out into the woods of the Virginia mountains
looking for the ley line, and something about the petrichor and the breeze in
the leaves felt soothingly familiar.
 
But the downsides of autumn were the weeks when you had the worst of both
summer and winter. Hot, dripping days when the city’s stench crawled in through
every crack. Dreary, cold periods when all color seemed to seep out of the
world. The weather couldn’t make up its mind.
Ronan had weeks like that too. Weeks where he oscillated wildly from
contentment to excitement to frenzy. Then frenzy quickly turned to exhaustion,
then disappointment and anger. He wanted to be above the voices in his head,
warring over which stupid thing to do next. But Ronan was a body tossed in the
Atlantic, lucky enough to catch a breath now and then but otherwise just…
surviving.
 
He knew he was taking it out on Gansey, knew he snapped when he should keep
quiet and stayed silent when he needed to communicate. But the nice thing about
Gansey was that he was a mountain in the storm and always would be. Ronan could
drift away or cling tight or just throw himself against the solid surface and
it would not phase Gansey’s loyalty. There was nothing in his life he relied on
as much as he relied on that.
 
Perhaps less reasonably, he knew he was taking it out on Adam too. He was aware
that Adam could walk away at any moment but every time he was there waiting
when Ronan pulled up, he thought maybe that meant Adam would stay. And if he
was going to stay, he had to see what he was staying for, see the rage and
loose ends, see every ugly broken thing about Ronan. It was self-defeating and
stupid but on days when Ronan hated no one so much as he hated himself, it made
it a little easier if he snapped at Adam and scraped himself raw on Adam’s
quiet eyes and dull teeth. But it was fine. He was dealing with it.
 
Then everything got worse.
 
He started waking up with bruises around his neck shaped like claws. He woke up
with the tck-tck-tck of night horrors caught in his messily laid traps. He woke
from nightmares to more nightmares over and over, for days on end. By the time
Friday came, he felt undone.
 
He picked up Adam and went to a motel, that part was typical. But the whole
time he was seething with fear and weariness and the knowledge that if he went
to sleep, his mind would conjure up something that wanted to kill him. When
they got into the room, it felt like he was choking on everything he couldn’t
say.
 
“What do you need?” Adam asked, sounding almost bored. But it was exactly what
Ronan needed to hear.
“I need you to make me not sleep.”
 
“I’m not a Red Bull.” Adam said and Ronan wanted to scream.
“I need you to make me not dream.” There was a second where they both
contemplated that. Ronan was thinking that that had been too honest, too
obvious, too strange. And Adam… who knew what Adam was thinking.
 
But after a second he nodded and started to undress.
“What are you doing?” The words grated on his throat on the way out as his
tired eyes caught on the pale skin of Adam’s stomach.
 
“You’re going to fuck me, if you have a hundred bucks?”
Ronan nodded numbly. Everything in his mind had stalled, like the Pig on a bad
day. He watched without comprehending as Adam stripped off his shirt and tossed
lube and condoms on the bed. “I thought you didn’t do that.” he said, still not
really getting it.
 
“It depends.” But it sounded like ‘I changed my mind’ which shocked Ronan into
action. He nodded once more, sharply this time as his mind spun into gear. He
started pulling off his clothes, feeling strange and uncertain. When he
finished, Adam just looked at him for a moment and Ronan wanted to be here and
anywhere but here. Nowhere would probably work.
 
Adam stepped forward and Ronan’s body warred between flinching away (‘you’re
dangerous, don’t touch him,’ his weary mind said) and relaxing into it (‘I’m
safe, it’s okay,’ Adam’s eyes seemed to argue). And in the moment of indecision
Adam reached a hand out to gently touch Ronan’s hip and brushed his other
fingertips over Ronan’s cheek. It felt like redemption.
And then they were kissing.
 
Ronan didn’t know what to do with his hands. His lips knew vaguely what to do,
knew how to take what Adam was offering. But his hands shook at his sides,
uncertain. Then Adam sucked on his tongue, just briefly, but it dragged Ronan
out of his indecision and his hands found their way, unbidden, into Adam’s
hair. Yes, he knew as soon as he’d done it, that was where they were supposed
to be.
 
The kiss was all-consuming. It ate up everything, every thought, every synapse.
Every single neuron of Ronan’s brain bent towards Adam like a plant to the sun.
Adam was not passive but he was permissive, keeping up but not pushing ahead.
Every time he met Ronan’s movements with one of his own Ronan felt as though he
was reaching into Ronan’s brain and tugging to loosen one of the impossibly
tangled knots up there.
 
Adam pulled away and Ronan let him go even though it pained him. But he just
pulled the comforter down and guided them both so that Ronan was on top of him
on the bed. He stroked Ronan’s cock almost hesitantly, although that much at
least was not new. What was new was mouths and the taste of Adam on his tongue.
When Adam broke away to breathe Ronan didn’t want to stop, just kept going down
Adam’s neck until he got to his collarbones which he bit at gently.
 
“No marks.” Adam said but Ronan’s whole world had narrowed down to his teeth on
Adam’s skin. “Ronan.” Adam tugged him away and Ronan’s mind expanded to Adam’s
eyes, Adam’s hands, Adam. “No marks.” he said again and this time Ronan
actually heard him. It fucking killed him because he wanted to suck and bite
and worry every inch of Adam’s skin. But he nodded, because it was Adam’s body,
Adam’s rules.
 
Ronan grabbed a packet of lube but his fingers wouldn’t do what he asked. He
wanted to punch something just to let out all the energy bubbling under his
skin. Impatient, he ripped the packet open with his teeth and smeared the lube
over two fingers. Then he dropped it on Adam’s chest for later retrieval. He
knew how this worked, knew the basics even if he hadn’t had any practice
before. This part seemed the most complicated. Once they got to the actual
fucking Ronan wasn’t worried but prep was tricky.
 
Adam had arranged himself so that Ronan was between his thighs. He didn’t allow
himself to hesitate, just pushed one finger in. Adam was tight around him and
Ronan’s pulse raced. If this was a dream he’d be pulling something out right
now; the  want  rising like a stoked fire. But he was awake, living this moment
as he felt Adam start to relax around his finger.
 
Ronan felt over-eager and awkward. It helped when Adam pulled him into a kiss.
Kissing he could do. Focusing on Adam’s mouth let Ronan’s mind quiet, caught in
the gentle tidal movements of the kiss. Without really thinking about it he
added a second finger.
 
Adam bit down on Ronan’s lip then and Ronan froze, unsure but unwilling to
admit to his uncertainty. He just paused, watching Adam, trying to read his
strained expression. Should Ronan stop? Had he done something wrong? Surely
Adam could tell that Ronan knew fuck all about this but he wasn’t willing to
bring it up on the off-chance Adam hadn’t noticed.
 
After a single tense moment the strain around Adam’s eyes seemed to ease and he
pulled Ronan back into a kiss. Ronan took this as permission to resume
stretching him. He scissored his fingers feeling odd and clumsy and stupid. He
wished, suddenly, that they were angry, that they hated each other. It seemed
like this would be easier if it was rough and hurried and meant to hurt. But it
wasn’t. It was exactly the opposite, and something in Ronan protested the
gentleness of his movements.
 
Maybe Ronan was full of himself or maybe he had slim fingers but two really
didn’t seem like enough so he pulled back and slicked a third. Watching the
smooth slide of three fingers into Adam’s ass was amazing, impossible. Ronan
couldn’t fucking breathe and yet his pulse thundered on regardless. It seemed
beyond improbable that he, Ronan Niall ‘Fuck-up’ Lynch, had made it this far
without royally screwing something up. He would make the most of it until that
happened, he thought, before falling back into a kiss.
 
He got lost like that, mind busy with the tight clutch of Adam’s body and the
warm weight of his tongue. Until one of Adam’s hands drifted from its place on
Ronan’s back to the space beside them. Reluctantly, Ronan stopped the kiss and
gave Adam room enough to open the condom packet. The condom was pink and that
seemed so incongruous. Ronan wondered vaguely if Adam got them from his pimp or
if he picked up the ones the local clinics gave out for free. At least, that
was what teen soaps had led him to believe.
 
His thoughts stuttered and slipped away as Adam rolled the condom onto Ronan’s
dick. Now that it was time to actually do this, Ronan felt charged, energy
fizzling along his arteries and veins. He slicked his cock with the last of the
lube and then took a deep breath.
 
Ronan Lynch was afraid of very few things, with most of them living inside his
head. He was not scared of this boy, he decided, as he took a long lingering
look. There was no danger here. Only opportunity. He would not be a coward in
this.
 
So he caught Adam’s eyes and held them, feeling certain of his uncertainty,
unafraid through sheer force of will. And then he pushed in.
 
Adam tensed and Ronan proceeded slowly but inexorably. When he was fully
seated, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, overwhelmed.
 
He’d been right, this part was easy; his body knew what to do. But he thought
he was going to be torn in two with the conflicting urges to go slow and savor
the moment, and go as fast as his body demanded. Because he knew himself, he
knew the second urge would win. He bit back every wounded little sound that
wanted to come out as he sped his thrusts.
 
He tipped forward to lean on his forearms and his chest brushed Adam’s as they
breathed. It felt impossibly intimate, breathing the same air and sweat
gathering where they touched. Ronan had never been this close to another human
being. It tore at something inside him, something raw and wounded already.
 
Without thinking, he bit savagely into his forearm, wanting the pain and the
pressure and the distraction from everything happening inside himself. It
helped. It let him forget the closeness, forget the sound of Adam’s unsteady
breaths and the slight cramp in his foot. Instead he could just  feel , feel
the clinging heat of Adam’s body and the fast rhythm their bodies made.
 
Adam reached between them to touch himself and desire caught in Ronan’s throat.
Desire for what he wasn’t sure, couldn’t think right now, but he wanted
something desperately. He knew he was making noises, there was nothing to do
about it, his mind was hazy and his body was in control. He could barely hear
anything over the rushing in his ears, the roar of blood reminding him that he
was alive, alive like racing, alive like falling from a great height. Alive
like sex, it turned out.
 
Dimly he was aware of Adam coming in the negligible space between their bodies.
It was messy and hot and Ronan could feel sweat trickling down to pool in the
small of his back. He was close, clenched fists shaking and eyes burning,
movements uncoordinated and irregular. Finally he came with a cry, jaw clenched
on skin and eyelids shut tight.
 
He wanted to bask, wanted to stay here in this moment, wanted to share Adam’s
space, share breath and bed and skin. But Ronan Lynch does not cuddle. So he
got up and threw the condom away and then buried his face in the pillow before
his eyes could betray him.
 
Adam got up and started to dress and Ronan just tried to catch his breath. The
adrenaline slowly leeched away and the endorphins turned everything fuzzy. He
had been tired before, now he was exhausted, body and mind yearning for
restorative sleep. But he didn’t want Adam to go yet. He turned over to watch
him pull on his shoes.
 
Adam nudged him.
“Why did you need to stay awake?” he asked.
Nothing seemed as desperate as it had before. The fear of the past few days was
far away now but still, he answered honestly because he didn’t know how to lie.
“You ever get scared of what you can do?” Nothing was said for a moment and
dimly Ronan thought that might have been a strange thing to say but he was
fucked out and weary and didn’t really give a shit.
 
“No.” Adam said and Ronan just stared at the ceiling, feeling very far away
from everything now that Adam was dressed and halfway across the room. “Are you
going to dream?” Adam asked.
“I don’t know.” And the fear was not so far away as he would have liked, still
pressed like needles along his spine. There was still the possibility that he
would bring something back with him upon waking, that he would have to fight
for his life because things in his head preferred him dead.
 
“Do you– I can stay?” Adam said and there was the fear, closer still, intimate
and sharp.
“No.” he said, eyes pulled open. Adam had to be as far away from Ronan as
possible. “No, you should go.”
“Of course.” Adam said, and shut the door quietly behind him.

Ronan stared at the cracked ceiling as he thought about Adam, about sex, about
dreams, about possibilities and danger of both the thrilling and terrifying
kind. Finally, he was pulled into a deep, dreamless sleep.
***** if you want it to be *****
Chapter Summary
     He brought back crystal balls filled with tiny perfect meadows. He
     brought back clumps of moss that smelled like home. He brought back
     fountain pens that only wrote in Latin. He brought back mysteries and
     wonders, and a part of him wanted desperately to show them to Adam.
     After all, their existence depended almost as much upon Adam as it
     did upon Ronan.
Chapter Notes
     This is the first chapter that doesn't have a direct corollary in
     blessed be the boys. I kind of liked that idea that Ronan pays
     attention to some things that Adam doesn't even mention as important.
Ronan didn’t realize how many things he’d catalogued about Adam until the
seasons changed them. The flimsy t-shirt and the line of his collarbones was
replaced with a second-hand jacket that dwarfed his slim shoulders. The sun-
tinged streaks in his hair turned dull and tired. And his long-fingered and
delicate hands turned red and chapped until it hurt Ronan to look at them.
Fridays nights became as much as staple in Ronan’s life as Sunday mornings. He
knew there was probably something fucked up about that. Knew he was just giving
himself more to confess at church every time he met Adam. But the thing was,
sex had some unadvertised advantages. Namely, if he was tired before then
fucking would knock him out completely. And if he’d slept some time in the
previous 24 hours then fucking worked more or less like a few beers: it relaxed
him, it made him easy and pliable. And more importantly, it made him king of
his own dreams.
 
Sleep after sex was simultaneously soft and hurried. Even in sleep, his heart
would race in remembered pleasure, his dreams would turn red and pulsing. But
there was no urgency, no fear, no nightmares prowling through his mental
landscape. The forest in his dream was always summery and warm. It caused sweat
to prickle on Ronan’s brow as he walked, unafraid, beneath the trees. It was so
easy to imagine things, in that world of possibility. And it was just as easy
to bring them back when he woke, gasping like a second orgasm.
 
He brought back crystal balls filled with tiny perfect meadows. He brought back
clumps of moss that smelled like home. He brought back fountain pens that only
wrote in Latin. He brought back mysteries and wonders, and a part of him wanted
desperately to show them to Adam. After all, their existence depended almost as
much upon Adam as it did upon Ronan.
 
But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. For one thing he and Adam communicated
primarily through look and touch, not words. Ronan wasn’t even sure how he’d
express the relief and wonderment and gratitude that choked him when he woke up
in the hotel room alone to the scent of car grease and sex. For another thing,
no one could know. He’d almost told Gansey so many times. Gansey who still
looked at him carefully when Ronan went sullen and quiet. Gansey who had sat in
the hospital bed and refused to look at Ronan’s stitched wrists. Gansey who
believed so completely in magic and yet hungered always for some hint of proof
and had no idea it was sitting beside him all along.
 
Ronan couldn’t tell Gansey, couldn’t tell Adam, couldn’t tell anyone. And so
the happiness sat quietly inside him as the pain had done before it, and Ronan
chewed it up and spat it out as his signature brand of nonchalant vitriol and
honestly he didn’t think Adam could even tell the difference. But Ronan knew.
 
Ronan knew that things were different now. He dreamt and anything was possible.
He dreamt and was not afraid. And the thing was, most of the time, he dreamt of
Adam.
Ronan dreamt of the second time they’d met.
 
In the dream they raced again. Kavinsky bit at their heels and whispered
insults into Ronan’s ear. The night sky stretched above them huge and
impossibly full of stars. But this time Ronan was the road, was the pounding
music, was the car, holding Adam carefully inside himself. And this time Adam
was panting, hard and alive, a heart attack in slow motion. He filled to
bursting every dark space inside Ronan. And Ronan awoke with a warm silver toy
exactly the size and shape of Adam’s cock pressed to his belly.
 
At first he stuffed it away with the rest of the dream things under his bed.
But he couldn’t get it out of his mind. In the dream, it had been a part of
him, had been an extension on his body. In the dream he could control it with a
thought. And if it worked in the dream, it worked in real life.
He wanted to use it.
 
He tried it one night when Gansey was away. It felt strange at first, too solid
to be fingers, too warm to be anything but alive. Then he thought about the
BMW’s engine turning over and the toy purred awake. And then it was just
thrilling.
 
If he worked it into himself at just the right angle it would stay with barely
a fingertip of pressure to keep it seated. The other hand cupped his cock, not
stroking it yet, just pressing the heel of his hand to it as the toy buzzed
away inside him.
 
He felt like he couldn’t take a full breath and even as he imagined, it the
toy’s pulses lined up with the frantic pump of his lungs. Carefully he spread
precome from the tip of his cock down the length. He was incredibly aware that
this was what Adam would feel like inside him. He forced himself to go slow,
rocking the toy in short thrusts as he imagined Adam pinning his legs up, sharp
hipbones digging into the backs of his thighs. He had no idea how Adam would
fuck him. He usually stayed pace with Ronan when they fucked now. But he
imagined if Adam set the pace, it would be slow and torturous and hard enough
to leave marks. So that was how he did it, rough but unhurried as he could
manage.
 
It took approximately no time at all for that plan to go out the fucking
window. He imagined, if Adam was really here, this would be around the time
Ronan would be raking dull nails down Adam’s back, urging him breathlessly to
go faster. Ronan's hand fell into a rhythm of quick, brutal pumps as he groaned
and whined, loud in the empty apartment. He came with teeth buried into his
bottom lip, imagining Adam forcing his hands over his head as the toy growled
and thrummed away.
===============================================================================
Afterward, lying awake, relaxed but far from sleep, Ronan wondered how he was
supposed to clean it. He hadn’t really thought about it, but in the dream it
had been pure metal, no circuitry, so he could probably just boil it or stick
it in the dishwasher or whatever. Dream things, once made, rarely broke.
 
After cleaning it, he balled it up in a t-shirt and took it out to the car. He
didn’t let himself think of what he wanted to do with it. Which had the
unintended side effect that the next time he picked up Adam, he had completely
forgotten that it was there until they got into the hotel room. Good one,
Lynch.
 
He wasn’t quite ready to use it with another person there anyway, he told
himself. This was for the best. Adam’s nose and cheeks were red and splotchy
from the cold. Ronan, on the other hand, was wearing three shirts layered over
each other and a leather jacket with canvas lining. He hated the cold and would
not stand it even for the short periods between heated room and heated car.
 
Ronan thought sometimes about how little he really knew about Adam. Ronan knew
his clothes smelled like cars and his hands were usually stained. Ronan knew he
fucked people for money, although he couldn’t say if it was just dudes, or
women too. Adam never mentioned a pimp or other clients, or friends and family
for that matter. Ronan didn’t know if Adam did this five days a week or only on
weekends. Ronan didn’t know if Adam went to school or if he worked full time or
if he did drugs or anything, really, about Adam. And in return Adam knew
nothing about Ronan. That was how this thing worked. They were two names and
several months away from an anonymous hookup but most weeks it still kind of
felt… distant, like this was separate from the rest of Ronan’s life. Maybe that
was part of why he liked it.
 
Adam looked more tired today than he usually did, which was saying something
because he always looked kind of tired. But this time it had gotten past dead-
eyed and all the way to fidgety. In the car on the way to the hotel, he had
actually, quite literally twiddled his thumbs and Ronan had had to try very
hard not to snicker. Now he was playing with the hem of his t-shirt, waiting
for some indication from Ronan of what they were going to do. Without really
thinking it through he walked over and grabbed Adam’s hands from where they
fiddled uselessly. He just held Adam loosely by the wrist for a moment,
commanding Adam into stillness with his eyes. After a long minute, Adam let out
all his breath slowly, licked his lips and carefully relaxed his hands where
they brushed the front of Ronan’s shirt.
 
Then, Ronan brought his hands up to eye level and looked them over. They looked
red and sore. There was a smear of grease or engine oil at the base of Adam’s
thumb. Slowly, not looking Adam in the eye, Ronan brought the offending hand up
and sucked the blackened skin into his mouth.
 
Adam hissed and his eyes slammed shut. But before Ronan could pull away or
stop, Adam was nodding, eyes still closed. His skin tasted like gasoline
smelled: dark and toxic and warm as cigarette smoke. He knew by now not to
leave marks so his teeth were gentle where they scrapped chapped skin.
 
“That’s not going to help.” Adam said after a second.
Ronan shrugged, mouth still occupied. He didn’t know if Adam meant it wouldn’t
get rid of the mark or wouldn’t help his skin. Finally he pulled away and
looked at Adam’s hands again. The ball of his thumb was still stained but now
it was also shiny and wet.
“You should use lotion.” Ronan said, off-hand and uninvested.
Adam laughed a little.
 
“Okay. Sure.” he said, in a way that indicated Ronan was crazy for saying
anything.
They pulled off their clothes. Ronan’s layers took significantly longer to take
off than Adam’s shitty second-hand jacket. Then Ronan settled back on the bed
and raised an eyebrow. Adam obligingly settled on top of him. Ronan liked the
presence of him, Adam’s knees and arms caging him in and Adam’s weight pressing
his hips into the mattress. They’d never tried it like this before and Ronan
liked the feeling of smirking up at Adam; it felt different and good.
 
Ronan took his time prepping him, long fingers brushing Adam’s prostate just
enough for him to jerk. Adam was always beautiful but there was something
particularly appealing about Adam panting and red in the face, cock heavy and
hard between his legs.
 
“Get. On with it.” Adam finally said between breaths. Ronan thought about
continuing, pushing Adam over the edge like this. But he really wanted Adam to
ride him, so he conceded the point and rolled a condom on.
 
Then Adam settled his hands wide across Ronan chest, fingernails digging in
blunt and bitten, and sunk onto Ronan’s cock. Ronan groaned deep in his throat
at the feeling. Adam watched him through half-lidded eyes as his body adjusted.
Then he set a steady, hard rhythm.
Ronan didn’t like just lying back; he met each of Adam’s downward strokes with
an upward movement. But he loved the pressure on his chest and hips, loved
being pushed back into the mattress, held down, pinned in place. Adam let his
head loll back as he rolled his hips and Ronan wanted so badly to taste the
taut, sweaty skin of his neck.
 
Ronan took ahold of Adam’s hips and moved them both back towards the head of
the bed so that he could maybe sit up. But the movement was awkward and he gave
it up quickly. Now his neck was tipped up and his gaze kept drifting down to
Adam’s hands digging into the skin of his chest. There was something
captivating about Adam’s hands, about the elegant utility of them, the strange
dimensions of them as though they were fashioned for some other boy and just
happened to end up here. As Adam once again took up his brutal pace, Ronan
couldn’t help but watch his fingers go white knuckled. Ronan felt pleasure
distantly tingling up his spine, then twisting in his gut, and finally building
up until it almost choked him.
 
Ronan came first, biting his tongue, eyes going unfocused as his orgasm swept
over him. Adam settled on his cock as it began to soften. One hand remained on
Ronan’s chest while the other roughly jerked himself off. He came on Ronan’s
stomach with something that was not quite a groan and not quite a sigh.
 
When he had sufficiently regained his coordination Adam levered himself off the
bed and began to get dressed. Ronan, face buried characteristically in his
inner elbow, wiped the come away with a corner of the sheet and dropped the
condom off the side of the bed for someone else to deal with.
“Gross.” Adam said and Ronan laughed. He imagined Adam rolled his eyes but
Ronan couldn’t open his eyes to check.
 
After Adam left, Ronan drifted quickly into a dream. He knew what he wanted. In
his dream the forest was wet and dripping in the aftermath of a summer storm,
everything smelled like life and earth and growing things. Orphan Girl was
there, and she held something in her hands. She peered at it as if confused.
Ronan approached carefully so as not to startle her. But she must have known he
was there because when he got within arm’s reach, she offered him her gift.
It was a small white tub, unmarked but heavy with the lotion it carried. With a
thought Ronan had a pen in his hand. In his messy scrawl he wrote Hands but
because it was a dream the pen spelled out Manibus. He smiled crookedly at the
Orphan Girl and woke up with hands full.
 
Ronan realized most people didn’t know Latin so before leaving, he dug a pen
out of the bedside drawer beside the bible and wrote underneath the dream
label: for your hands.
He left it in his car, assured that this at least he would not forget. The next
week Ronan drove Adam back to his neighborhood afterward and idled by the curb.
Adam was looking out at the icy sidewalk and seemed not keen to step out onto
it.
 
“I’ve got something for you.” Ronan said. Adam raised both eyebrows. Ronan dug
under the seat and produced the lotion. Adam looked at it but didn’t take it.
His face was wary. Ronan rolled his eyes as viciously as he could. “It’s a
fucking tip. You take tips don’t you?”
Adam watched him, then took the tub as if it might bite, turning it over
carefully. Ronan saw him read the description on the bottom and his face…
twitched. That was the only way to describe it.
 
“Okay.” he said, finally, stuffing the gift into his jacket pocket. He took the
lotion, got out, and walked briskly away while Ronan watched the hunched bounce
of his shoulders.
He hadn’t thanked Ronan. Ronan hadn’t wanted him to.
***** I just wanna sit around *****
Chapter Summary
     “Whatever, I’m hungry.” he said, even though he and Gansey had had
     leftover Indian before Ronan left. “I’ll pay for the night” – he
     really didn’t want Adam back out on the street tonight – “but I’m
     going to get something to eat first.” He said it as if it didn’t
     matter either way, projecting his complete lack of interest as loudly
     as he could. Adam still looked wary.
The next time Ronan saw Adam he looked like shit. Not warmed up shit , not even
fresh shit. He looked like stone cold, not-even-flies-will-touch-it shit. As
soon as Ronan thought this, he knew he was going to mention it to Adam at some
point. Maybe it would be his parting shot before he dropped Adam off at home.
He was sure Adam would appreciate the compliment.
But first.
 
“Not this week then?” he said, a little put out but also surprised it had taken
this long; Adam looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over on his best
days. “I should give you my number so you didn’t have to walk all the way over
here just to tell me you’re sick.” He rifled in his pocket to get his cell
phone. It would be kind of nice to have a reliable way to contact Adam anyway,
he thought.
 
“No.” Adam said sharply and it echoed in Ronan’s head. He was so stupid, of
course, of course Adam didn’t want his fucking number. What next? Was he going
to ask him to fucking go steady? Fuck. “I mean, I’m not sick.” Adam continued.
Ronan scrambled to catch up with the conversation. It took him a fraction of a
second to register what Adam said and then he shot Adam his most patently
unimpressed and disbelieving look.
“Okay, I am sick. But not that sick. I–”  A pause. “I  want to make you feel
good.”
Ronan’s mind whirred. He searched for insincerity in Adam’s expression but if
anything he looked a bit spooked, like he’d let slip something he hadn’t meant
to. But that couldn’t be right, could it? Ronan frowned and Adam’s face
rearranged itself into a polite mask. Fine. Two could play that tune. Ronan
thought I don’t give a single fuck, and then tried to match his face to the
idea.
 
But the thing was, Adam really looked sick as shit. And the hollow of his
cheeks, which usually made him look like some kind of ridiculous male model,
now made him look haggard and hungry. Ronan wondered if something was going on,
if maybe Adam had been out on the streets too much and that was how he’d gotten
sick. If his pimp was withholding medicine, shit like that, Ronan would have no
idea.
 
“Whatever, I’m hungry.” he said, even though he and Gansey had had leftover
Indian before Ronan left. “I’ll pay for the night” – he really didn’t want Adam
back out on the street tonight – “but I’m going to get something to eat first.”
He said it as if it didn’t matter either way, projecting his complete lack of
interest as loudly as he could. Adam still looked wary.
 
Whatever. Ronan stopped at the first late-night diner he saw. It looked like a
hole in the wall but he didn’t really care about the décor so much as about the
food. Ronan grabbed them a booth and Adam slid in opposite him.
 
“What can I get you boys?” the waitress asked.
“What’d you want?” Ronan asked Adam, because that was why they were here in the
first place.
Adam hesitated, eyes darting around the room for a second and then said:
“Nothing.”
 
Fucking liar, Ronan accused with his eyes but Adam pretended not to see.
“Can I get a tomato soup and a grilled cheese?” Ronan asked. If Adam was too
dumb or too proud to take charity Ronan would just pour the damn soup over his
head and Ronan’s conscience could fuck off.
 
“Sure thing.” said the waitress and Adam smiled at her politely.
As they waited for the food, Ronan pretended to look at the ugly-ass art on the
walls and watched Adam out of the corner of his eye. There were few things
Ronan knew about Adam. But one thing Adam couldn’t or didn’t want to hide was
his fucking pride. He took his money at the end of the night as if he was doing
Ronan a favor. Except for the lotion, he didn’t take tips. He didn’t really
like Ronan to drive him around and  he gave off the impression that really, he
was above all this. It would have been annoying as shit on anyone else but Adam
apparently knew what he was doing because Ronan just kept coming back for more.
 
Mostly, Ronan didn’t care about Adam’s pride. It didn’t interfere with what
they did, and he didn’t seem to look down on Ronan, so it didn’t matter. But
now it meant he wouldn’t take something that was right in front of his face.
Literally. When the food was delivered Adam pretended he didn’t see it. Ronan
rolled his eyes while Adam was trying to look interested in the drink menu.
Annoyed at this whole fucking farce Ronan made himself eat some of the soup. It
tasted fine and everything but he mentally weighed each bite to see if it was
enough to keep up the charade. Finally he called it quits.
 
“Alright.” he said and dropped some cash on the table. I don’t care, I don’t
care, you’re a proud idiot,Ronan thought loudly, hoping Adam could fucking hear
him.
“What?” Adam said, looking appalled. “You haven’t finished.” Bait, he thought.
“Whatever. Wasn’t that hungry.” Hook.
Adam looked vaguely pissed off.
“So you’re just going to… leave it?” Line.
 
Ronan sighed theatrically to stop himself from smiling.
“Unless you want it.” he said, cool as could be. Adam just watched him,
weighing his stomach against his pride no doubt. Ronan tried staring him down
and when that didn’t work he rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone. He didn’t
actually like any of the dumb games Gansey had downloaded onto his phone but it
helped the sheen of disinterest. “Whatever man, eat it if you want.” There was
another long moment, and then Adam reached out and pulled the food toward him.
Ronan bit back a smile. Sinker, he thought.
 
As Adam ate, he thought about how weird that whole metaphor was. It had to do
with fishing, he knew that much. He could even mostly follow the logic until it
got to the sinker part. What the fuck was a sinker? Whatever.
 
He wanted something nicer than their usual this time. No drafts, no
questionable, too-thin sheets. He took them to the  nicest hotel nearby and got
a room on the top floor. In the quiet elevator going up Adam’s sniffling
sounded incredibly loud. When they got to the room, Adam made a move to kneel
but Ronan stopped him. Trying to blow someone without being able to breathe
through your nose sounded like a bad idea.
 
Ronan kissed Adam’s throat nudging his head back so Ronan could put barely
there bites along his neck. He wondered if Adam, like Gansey could go days at a
time without shaving, the lucky bastards. Without really thinking about it, his
hands found their way into Adam’s hair as Ronan kissed the hinge of his jaw.
Adam’s hands, were cold against his stomach but he liked the gentle movement of
his fingertips.
 
“I love your hands.” he breathed into Adam’s ear.
“What?” Adam said, pulling back.
Ronan pulled back too and crossed his arms. Shit, 'love'? He shouldn’t have
said that. It must have sounded corny and gross.
“What?” Ronan said, eternally ready for an argument. But Adam didn’t really
look like he wanted to fight. He looked uncomfortable.
 
“No,” he said, shaking his head, “I didn’t hear you. I, uh, can’t hear out of
that ear.”
“Oh,” Ronan said, uncrossing his arms but still feeling somewhat attacked. He
didn’t want to repeat what he’d said, wanted to pretend the words had never
been spoken. But Adam’s inquiring face seemed to demand a response. “I just…”
Fuck, he was a fucking idiot. “I said I liked your hands.”
 
Adam looked nonplussed, as if Ronan had spoken Latin instead of English. Was it
so strange to like something about Adam? Ronan thought defensively. Guys could
complement each other without it being weird, right? Shit.
 
“Oh!” Adam said, as if something had clicked into place. “You want a handjob?”
That wasn’t actually what he’d been thinking but now that Adam had suggested
it, it was a perfect way out of an awkward situation. “Yeah.” he said quickly,
shrugging as if this had been his obvious intention from the start.
“Sure, we can start with that.” Adam said agreeably.
He peeled Ronan out of his clothes, then Ronan settled on the bed to watch him
undress. There was something endearing and boyish about the jut of his shoulder
blades and the quick awkward slide of his clothes as they were discarded. He
didn’t make a show of it but somehow it was still captivating.
 
Adam settled over him in bed and delicately traced the contours of his chest
until his toes curled and his nipples hardened into peaks. Ronan closed his
eyes and leaned his head back, embarrassed by his reaction but unable to stop
the pleased tingle at the feeling of Adam’s smooth lean hands.
It didn’t take long for Ronan to harden under Adam’s ministrations. It felt
good, grip firm and speed just right. But it didn’t feel quite the same as when
he touched himself; there was something missing. His hands fisted in the sheets
uselessly and his hips moved restlessly trying to get more or less or
something. Finally when the frustration had almost overwhelmed the pleasure in
the back of his mind, Adam seemed to catch on.
 
His grip tightened just as his other arm came down to pin Ronan’s hips to the
bed. There was a burst of adrenaline at the restraint and Ronan groaned, trying
to move his hips. But Adam just pushed down harder and Ronan’s dick jumped,
precome sliding down to meet Adam’s strokes as they went faster and faster.
“Fuck.” Ronan said, murmured voice still loud over their combined breaths, “You
motherfucker.” He twisted just to feel the bruising force of Adam’s arm holding
him down. It hurt.
It hurt.
It was incredible.
 
“Adam, Adam, goddamn, fuckin– sh– shit Adam.” He was not as eloquent as he
would have liked but his mouth was moving without help from his brain, which
was too busy thinking about the almost-too-tight grip of Adam’s hand.
 
Adam moved in a quick, rough rhythm that set Ronan to groaning obscenities
between clenched teeth. Adam flicked his thumb over the head of Ronan’s cock
and a little moan punched out of him. He rocked upwards again, testing the
boundaries of his movement and relishing the mingled pain and pressure.
 
It didn’t take long for him to come with a final, emphatic, “Fuck.” He rode the
aftershocks as Adam continued to pump slowly, until the sensation was too much.
“Fuck off.” Ronan said, pushing Adam’s hand away. He couldn’t see Adam’s
expression, eyes closed to hide tears, but he assumed it was smug. The bed
creaked and shifted as Adam got up and went to the bathroom.
 
While he was gone, Ronan wiped at his eyes, accustomed but still annoyed by his
reaction. He was still angrily rubbing his palms over his eyes when Adam came
back. Adam wiped down his stomach with a warm washcloth and then went back to
drop it in the bathroom.
 
“Turn over,” he said when he returned. Ronan had something confrontational on
the tip of his tongue, as was his nature, but it seemed too much effort so he
just turned over. Adam perched over him and Ronan wondered what the hell Adam
was playing at when he heard the snick of a bottle opening.
Ronan tried to relax as Adam’s hands soothed their way down his back. But he
was aware of how vulnerable he was, how difficult it would be to throw Adam off
from this angle, how much it would hurt if the barely there brushes turned into
fingernails scraping down his spine. The potential for pain surged through him,
made him sick and excited at the same time, even while a large part of himself
knew that Adam was not a threat to him. Adam wouldn’t hurt him, but still Ronan
thrilled with the thought that he could.
But as Adam’s movements became less tentative and he began to dig into the
knotted muscles of Ronan back, almost against his will, Ronan felt himself
relax. The adrenaline faded until all that was left was the gentle sound of
blood rushing in his ears like a distant sea. As the tension drained out of
him, he could feel sleep curling around the edges of his thoughts, making them
 fuzzy and his face warm. He knew this was dangerous. For him, sleep was always
a risk. But his mind had been a less frightful place recently, and Ronan
couldn’t imagine that falling asleep to the gentle feeling of Adam’s hands
could possibly end in anything but the best sleep he’d ever had.
 
He thought, as he drifted off, that this might have been what trust looked
like.
===============================================================================
 In the dream Ronan was still lying on his stomach, but instead of sheets his
nose was buried in soft green moss. He opened his eyes lazily and found Adam’s
face only a few inches from his own. But in the odd way of dreams, his eyes
were sun-through-the-leaves green instead of their usual blue. Ronan was
standing without remembering how he got up, but the front half of the BMW was
growing out of a fallen tree behind them and he walked over the examine it. The
metal twisted and bent where it met the tree, eventually blending into the
soft, rotting bark of the trunk. Well, it wouldn’t go very fast like that,
Ronan thought, but he got into the driver’s seat anyway. He didn’t have his
keys and he knew if he thought about them he could summon them to him in an
instant, but there was no point. So instead he turned to the passenger seat
where Adam sat. Ronan met his eyes which were now the same slate gray as the
car’s exterior. He looked comfortable here, part of the forest, part of the
car, part of the strange place where man-made met home-grown. Adam broke eye
contact and leaned forward, opening the glove compartment. Inside was a crow
feather, a flashlight, and a pink switchblade. Adam removed the last of these
and flicked it open easily as breathing.
 
“Give me your hand.” Adam said and Ronan did so without question, wanting to
follow the flow of the dream. Adam gently traced the lines of his palm with the
tip of the blade. Slowly the flat of the blade turned from whispering to
scraping along the skin. Ronan knew that sooner or later it would break skin
but he didn’t move away. Before that happened Adam seemed to grow tired of the
game and placed the handle in Ronan’s hand, curling his fingers so they were
holding hands with the cold steel between their palms.
 
Ronan grasped the switchblade’s handle and pulled.
===============================================================================
 The shower was running when he awoke, which was good because he didn’t know
how he would have explained the knife that had no doubt appeared in his hand as
he snapped awake. He sat up to examine his dream object. Its handle was a
rather lurid pink but it snapped open and shut smoothly and the edge felt
sharp. He tested it on the corner of the sheet.
It wasn’t long before the shower shut off and Adam came back, a towel around
his hips and another for drying his hair. Something heated and happy uncurled
at the relaxed slope of Adam’s shoulders.
 
“Those are illegal in D.C. you know.” Adam said, nodding to the knife.
“So’s prostitution.” Ronan said with a smile. And then, “Do you want it?” In
the dream it had been Adam’s knife, that much was clear. And besides, someone
who looked like Adam and did his job could use a little extra protection.
 
Adam nodded and Ronan gave him the knife. Adam stuffed it in the pocket of his
jacket where it lay discarded on the floor and then returned to bed. He seemed
better for the meal and the shower, although he still looked tired.
 
They fucked twice, both times with Ronan doing most of the work. He didn’t
mind. He did mind not being able to kiss Adam, because that was one of the best
parts. But as much as he wanted Adam’s mouth, he didn’t really want to catch
whatever Adam had. So he refrained.
 
After a final handjob in the shower, Adam looked about ready to pass out. Ronan
was still mostly awake after his little nap but he let Adam sleep while he
watched the muted hotel TV. In the quiet of the hotel room, sweaty and tired
but more settled and peaceful than he’d felt in ages, Ronan felt an idea begin
to form.
***** the black banners raised *****
Chapter Summary
     Ronan was idling, engine running, heater on full blast when someone
     knocked at the window. It could only be Adam so Ronan popped open the
     doors and looked over. The person who got in was definitely Adam but
     he had a purpling bruise over his left cheekbone and another smaller
     bruise fading into his hair. Ronan’s blood was boiling before Adam
     had even fully sat down.
     “One of your clients do that?” Ronan bit out, whip sharp.
Chapter Notes
     The opening scene of this chapter was inspired by @auroralynches on
     tumblr. The post is here (http://auroralynches.tumblr.com/post/
     129327382484/i-said-i-would-do-a-post-about-the-gangseys) about
     gangsey Christmas traditions.
Gansey only ever went to church on the holidays. It was a whole Gansey family
tradition. And since Matthew had moved away, Ronan couldn’t make himself go to
midnight mass alone, so he always went with Gansey and his family to their
Christmas Eve service.
Ronan would sit at the end of the pew with Gansey next to him, intermittently
calling him a Protestant heathen in an attempt to make him laugh, or at least
make Helen shoot Ronan an unimpressed look.
This time neither of them were tired after the service so they so they made the
journey through the warehouse district to the nearest park with Ronan
complaining about the cold the entire time. It was worth it for the swings.
Ronan would admit over his own dead body how much he enjoyed a good swing set.
And the darkness, broken only by the distant streetlights and the even more
distant light of the stars, made him feel closer to a higher power than two
hours listening to Gansey’s minister.
They walked home and made hot chocolate in time to watch the sun rise from the
roof. That was about the point the night caught up with them and they stumbled
back down to the apartment, both falling into Gansey’s bed shivering until they
fell asleep.
Ronan woke up around noon, and skyped Matthew quietly for a few hours while
Gansey slept some more. When they were finally both awake they ordered food
from a Chinese place and opened presents over their takeout containers.
It was easy and Ronan felt a quiet sort of peace he wasn’t used to. But there
was something disturbing about the two of them, about how much he relied on
Gansey, how utterly miserable Ronan would be without him. He wondered who Adam
had. What Adam was doing for Christmas. He thought about the cold air the night
before and how miserable it would have been if there was no safe place to
return to.
Not his problem, he reminded himself. Adam was not  his  in any sense of the
word, and thus not his to keep watch over.
===============================================================================
Ronan was idling, engine running, heater on full blast when someone knocked at
the window. It could only be Adam so Ronan popped open the doors and looked
over. The person who got in was definitely Adam but he had a purpling bruise
over his left cheekbone and another smaller bruise fading into his hair.
Ronan’s blood was boiling before Adam had even fully sat down.
 
“One of your clients do that?” Ronan bit out, whip sharp.
 
“No.” Adam said, after rolling his eyes. Shit, maybe it was his pimp who did
it. Maybe Adam was in serious trouble, maybe– “Seriously. It was just some
dudes who tried to rob me because they thought I looked richer than I am.” And
it even sounded true. But maybe Adam was just a good liar.
 
“Did you fight back?” Ronan said. If it was his pimp, he wouldn’t have been
able to fight.
“I used my knife. Eventually.”
 
Ronan wanted to beat someone until they bled. Actually, even better, he wanted
to stand and watch while Adam beat someone to a bloody pulp. ‘Someone’ being
more specifically whoever did that to his fucking face. Finally pulling himself
together enough to drive, Ronan pulled out into traffic.
 
He didn’t stop at the nearest motel.
“Where are we going?” Adam asked as they passed another motel. Ronan kept to
the busier streets and watched out for bright lights and big windows.
 
“A gym.”
“Why?” Adam asked as if a perfectly good reason wasn’t fucking written all over
Adam’s face.
“Because,” – I want you safe–  “I’m going to teach you to fight.”
“No, Ronan.” Adam said emphatically.
“Yes, Ronan.” he replied, a little snottily.
 
“You can pay me to do a lot, but you can’t pay me to let you push me around.”
Adam bit out and Ronan stiffened. What the fuck was his problem? Ronan just
wanted to  help . Then distantly he realized that might be the problem: Adam
didn’t want his help.
 
Well that was tough shit because he was going to get it. But Ronan could make
concessions to his stupid fucking pride.“I’m doing you a favor, that part’s
free.” Ronan said, because Adam’s comment had stung and he wanted it clear that
there was no money involved in this part. “You can blow me after.” Not that it
mattered.
“Fine.” Adam said challengingly. Ronan, just barely, didn’t rise to the bait.
Maybe he was growing as a person. Gansey would be proud.
===============================================================================
They found a gym that was open late and Ronan rummaged around in the trunk
until he found the tape he’d had put there last time he had dragged Gansey to
the gym. Ronan reassured himself that no matter how hard it was to teach Adam,
he couldn’t be a worse fighter than Gansey. He didn’t have proper clothes
because this wasn’t really where he’d expected the night to end up, but next
time he’d bring workout clothes for both of them.
The first few times Adam hit the punching bag, he was hesitant and like Gansey,
he curled his thumb into his fist.
 
“For fuck’s sake,” how did people learn this shit? “You’re going to break your
thumb like that.”
He demonstrated the right stance, the follow through, the best way to hurt your
opponent without hurting yourself in the process. Adam copied. But his
awkwardly long, lean limbs were not designed for combat in the same way Ronan’s
larger frame was. But it was a bit like teaching Matthew, which Ronan had done
a few years back before Matthew started school in California. Adam had the same
tendency to hit with his fist instead of his body.
 
The gym slowly emptied around them until they were the last ones there and the
owner was giving them disgruntled looks. Ronan waved cheerily at him and then
finally pulled Adam back from the bag. Slowly he undid the wrappings on Adam’s
hands. His knuckles were red and looked sore, Ronan would have to show him how
to hit with just the first two knuckles next time, but the skin wasn’t broken
anywhere.
 
In the locker room they stripped out of their sweaty clothes and got into the
showers. They washed quickly and perfunctorily. Ronan relished the tug of well-
used muscles and admired the lines of Adam’s body. Just when he was about to
switch off the water, Adam carefully dropped to his knees. Ronan thought
blowing someone in the shower sounded like a good way to inhale water but Adam
was a professional, Ronan supposed he knew how to do this shit.
 
It was different, running his hands through wet hair, darker than usual against
his hands. He pushed Adam’s hair back off his forehead and surveyed the bruise
there as Adam sucked Ronan into his mouth. His blood still boiled looking at
Adam’s injured face so he closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of Adam’s
tongue dancing along the underside of his cock.
 
With his eyes closed and the hum of the lights drowned out by the pounding of
the water, it was easy to imagine that he was somewhere else. Their shower at
the apartment was probably big enough for this. Ronan imagined the familiar
smell of Gansey’s cologne and Ronan’s shaving cream. He thought about Adam
against the blue-grey tiles, using Ronan’s shampoo, drying himself with their
nice towels instead of the scratchy shit they had at hotels. Something warm and
comforted swelled in Ronan’s breast as Adam bobbed quickly and the hot water
began to cool.
 
He came with a shudder imagining Adam spread out on his bed at home, clean and
warm and soft with sleep. He’d been thinking about that a lot lately, ever
since Adam had gotten sick and they’d spent the whole night together.
 
They changed back into their clothes which was gross but necessary and walked
out to the car. Adam moved like he was tired and sore which sucked but sucked
less than getting beat up again. He drove Adam home.
 
“Again next week.” Ronan said, “Come earlier in the evening. Wear something you
can sweat in.”
 
Ronan brought two sets of gym clothes the next week just in case, which was
good because Adam was wearing ratty jeans and a Coca-cola shirt under his
jacket. Ronan rolled his eyes. As he’d suspected, Adam had probably not set
foot inside a gym since he finished his last high school P.E. class. They went
to a different gym; Ronan didn’t like the idea of being a regular anywhere.
 
Adam improved steadily. At first he copied Ronan like he was reciting a passage
from a very old book, stilted and uneasy, but slowly his movements became
smooth and unselfconscious. He still didn’t throw himself into each moment the
way one needed to do in a real fight. But he seemed to understand the concepts.
It took a few weeks but eventually Ronan knew he was going to have to see how
Adam’s stood up to a real opponent. They went over to the part of the gym set
up for sparring and Ronan started taping his own hands.
 
“It’s different punching some one . You need to get used to it.” Ronan said and
Adam looked out warily from his deep-set eyes. Ronan looked down, concentrated
on finding that rage that always flowed beneath his skin. That, more than
anything, was what made him a good fighter. His father’s lessons had given him
the skills and the muscle memory but when you had to actually hurt someone, you
had to want to.
But the thing is, he didn’t want to hurt Adam. Not at all. So he pulled the
anger to the surface but it just slid through his fingers like water. He
gritted his teeth in frustration as he finished taping his hands. But there was
nothing to be done. It wouldn’t prepare Adam for fighting against a real
opponent but it was better than nothing.
 
Ronan fell into a fighting stance and saw Adam mirror him. The movement looked
almost natural now, Ronan noted with approval.
 
Ronan nodded, making sure Adam was ready. He nodded in return. Ronan waited a
half second for him to start but when he didn’t, Ronan made the first move.
Slow and easy, gauging how much of their lessons had actually gone in, Ronan
swung.
 
Adam cowered, flinching away with his whole body before Ronan even made
contact. Ronan pulled his punch without thinking about it, feeling sick. This
was not a reaction Gansey or Matthew had ever had. This was the reaction of
someone who knew the pain that was coming and just wanted to lessen the damage.
 
Struggling, Ronan kept his face blank. He was beyond rage and into cold,
impossible shock, trying not to believe what was clearly the case.
Adam had been hit before, repeatedly.
 
“We’re done.” Ronan said, because he wanted to go throw up alone and try to
forget the hollow look in Adam’s eyes–
“What? No.” Adam said sharply. “I just need more practice. But I can take a
hit.”
Ronan barely suppressed a flinch. He thought about Adam telling him that he
couldn’t pay to push Adam around. He wondered if this was a new resolution. He
wondered who had taught Adam to flinch like that.
 
“Come on. I can take it.” Adam said, voice rising, belligerent. “Or are you
scared I’m going to hit back.” That was the last thing Ronan was worried about.
“Come on.” he said again, and Ronan could see that he was angry now. Good.
Maybe if he was angry he’d actually try to fight.
“Fine.” Ronan said, because Adam needed to learn how to fight even if this was
the last thing in the world Ronan wanted to do. Before Ronan had even brought
his hands up to protect his face Adam was swinging and Ronan had to duck
hastily.
 
Adam fought like a caged animal, fast and frantic. He didn’t have the practice
that Ronan did, didn’t automatically block and left his sides wide open again
and again. But when Ronan hit at the exposed spot he shifted quickly and
avoided most of the force. Adam was lighter on his feet than Ronan, which was
good. And he finally threw a punch like he meant it. The first time Ronan
caught Adam’s fist with his face he felt a surge of pride through the pain.
 
Adam fought dirty and vicious and he threw Ronan back to the mat once. Ronan
scrambled up, not really sure if he’d get a kick to the ribs if he was too
slow. Just playing the defensive game wasn’t really helpful because most people
Adam would be fighting would be actively trying to do damage so Ronan hit back
as much as he could. His more experienced movements saved him from a few good
blows but as Adam kept hitting, there was something almost like fear in the pit
of Ronan’s stomach.
 
Suddenly, as quickly as he’d started, Adam stopped. Ronan let his hands fall
but stayed on his toes in case it was a trick. Fighting smart, that would be
Adam’s best asset. But after a second and a glance at Adam’s face he saw that
they were really done.
 
Ronan quickly took stock. His lip hurt and when he reached up to feel it there
was a smear of blood left on his finger. He grimaced. Gansey would worry about
that.
 
“Good.” he said, heart still pounding. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw
Adam look down at his hands as if they belonged to someone else. Adam, unlike
Ronan, was not used to using his anger to his advantage.
 
They showered and went to a hotel room to fuck. Ronan lay back and imagined
that he could feel his bruises blooming.
 
Gansey knew by now not to wait up on Fridays but the next morning he was
standing over Ronan’s bed when he woke up.
 
“What happened?” His voice was caught between judgmental and concerned.

“I met someone who takes instruction better than you do.” Ronan said, and left
it at that. Gansey did not look convinced and Ronan knew this lie by omission
couldn’t last forever.
***** if you want it to be *****
Chapter Summary
     Ronan knew what it felt like when Adam punched him. So he couldn’t
     say exactly that this felt like being punched. He could say he would
     have preferred the physical blow.
     There was too much in his chest, and too little. He felt it transmute
     into anger, at Adam’s stupidity, at his pride, at his complete
     misunderstanding of the situation. His face twisted into a sneer
     without thinking about it and something cruel was halfway to his lips
     before he stopped himself.
Ronan didn’t consider himself a very perceptive person. Ask him what a
barista’s name tag said or Helen’s eye color and he didn’t know and furthermore
didn’t care. Sure, he could read Gansey’s expression from thirty feet with a
blindfold on, but that was a special exception not indicative of deeper
analytic ability. For the most part Ronan didn’t read people because he didn’t
a) know how or b) give a shit.
 
Adam, at some point, had bypassed both point a and point b but Ronan didn’t
even notice it until he glanced up and saw Adam’s expression as he approached
the car. He looked like he wanted to run, not from Ronan, but from the world at
large. As he opened the door and got in Ronan didn’t say anything. Adam didn’t
want to run from Ronan, but he might if he was pushed.
When they were most of the way to the hotel Ronan finally got out a casual
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Adam said sharply. That wasn’t going to cut it.
 
“Yeah, right.” Ronan said, looking over for a second to see Adam looking almost
confused by the concern. “Your face dude.” He didn’t know how to explain it any
clearer than that.
“It’s nothing.” But he sounded defeated rather than defensive this time. Ronan
was trying to phrase his next inquiry when Adam continued. “Just… school fees.”
 
The awkward pause made it clear that that was not what Adam had wanted to say.
“School fees” could be code for anything. Ronan wondered if it had to do with
Adam’s job, with his living situation, with his pimp. Maybe he needed money to
get away. Ronan’s stomach twisted unpleasantly.
“How much?” Ronan asked, wondering if this meant Adam would leave the city,
move somewhere else with the money Ronan gave him. Adam cocked his head,
considering.
“Fifteen-hundred.” Adam said warily.
 
“Hmm, I can pay that.” Ronan was relieved it wasn’t more. He could probably
withdraw that much from the bank in one transaction although he didn’t really
know. “Let me stop by the bank.”
 
“In return for what?” Adam asked.
“For nothing.” Ronan said even though he wanted to say, ‘in return for you not
disappearing’. “’Cause you need it.”
 
“No.” Adam snapped. Ronan shot him a look. No, he didn’t need it after all?
“You don’t own me. I’m not your toy. Or your charity case. I’m not taking money
from you.”
Ronan knew what it felt like when Adam punched him. So he couldn’t say exactly
that this felt like being punched. He could say he would have preferred the
physical blow.
 
There was too much in his chest, and too little. He felt it transmute into
anger, at Adam’s stupidity, at his pride, at his complete misunderstanding of
the situation. His face twisted into a sneer without thinking about it and
something cruel was halfway to his lips before he stopped himself.
 
A thousand fights with Gansey had taught him that he always regretted what he
said when he was angry, usually it didn’t stop him because he knew Gansey would
forgive him his trespasses but this time something important was at stake.
He pulled into the nearest bank parking lot.
 
“Ronan-”
Ronan ignored Adam and slammed the door behind him.
Ronan generally didn’t have much to do with banks. Gansey managed all his
finances and investments and gave him cash at the beginning of every month, and
said he took some out of Ronan’s account for rent although Ronan wouldn’t be
surprised if he hadn’t been. He had credit cards he didn’t use and a debit card
he didn’t even know the pin to. But he figured banks had to be idiot proof if
everyone goes around using them.
 
“I’d like to take $1500 out of my account. Please.” he added at the last
moment. The woman smiled politely.
“Of course. What’s your account number?”
“Umm, wait a sec.” Ronan pulled out his cell phone and dialed Gansey’s number.
“Hello?” Gansey sounded confused and vaguely worried. It was extremely rare
that Ronan actually used his cell phone.
“What’s my account number?” The woman at the counter was now giving him a look
which made Ronan bare his teeth in a sharp smile.
“Why?” Gansey asked, less worried and more wary.
“Because I’m trying to get some money out of it?” There was an unspoken ‘duh’.
“Oh.” As if this was a novel concept. Then he listed off the number. Of course
he knew it off by heart, Ronan thought, rolling his eyes as he repeated the
number to the woman. She typed it into her computer and looked at the screen
for minute. Ronan was about to hang up on Gansey when she spoke.
“Ah, it appears you will need authorization from the other account holder for a
withdrawal.”
Ronan lifted the phone back to his ear.
“I need your permission.” Ronan said.
“Yeah.” Gansey said apologetically.
“So, do I have it?” he asked flatly.
“Ronan…”
“It’s my money Gansey.”
 
“It is.” he said but Ronan knew it couldn’t be that simple. “But, there’s a
reason they’re all joint accounts.” He didn’t have to remind Ronan of all the
stupid things he’d done when he’d had unlimited access to his own money.
 
“It’s not for me.” he said, trying to ignore the woman at the desk.
“Who’s it for then? As much as I would congratulate you if you started giving
large sums of money to homeless people, somehow I doubt that’s what this is.”
It was clearly meant to be a joke but Ronan didn’t know what Adam’s housing
situation and sincerely hoped he wasn’t homeless.
 
“Something like that.” he said. He practically heard Gansey sit up, surprised.
“Look, Gansey, he needs it.” And some of his desperation, his worry must have
leaked through because there was just silence on the other end.
 
“Okay, give the phone to the bank teller.” Gansey said and Ronan sighed, his
version of thank you.
 
Gansey talked through the hoops the bank teller had for them. And to Ronan’s
relief he didn’t even hesitate when he found out how much Ronan was trying to
get out.
When he had the money in a stiff envelope of fifties, the woman handed the
phone back.
Talking to Gansey made him think about the apartment, about not knowing where
Adam slept at night, about how much he wanted to see Adam somewhere other than
a shitty hotel.
He walked out of the bank but didn’t get in the car yet.
“Gansey-”
“Mmm?”
“Can you… go somewhere else for the weekend?”
“Pardon?”
 
Ronan shrugged even though Gansey couldn’t see him.
“I kind of need you out of the apartment this weekend. Just, go stay with
Malory.”
“Ronan… seriously what’s this ab-”
“I’ll explain when you get back.” Ronan said quickly and then regretted it a
second later. Now he had to do it.
“Okay.” Ronan sagged in relief. “I’ll be gone in fifteen minutes.” Gansey said
and Ronan nodded.
“Thanks.” he said and hung up.
Finally he got in the car, no longer angry and now with substantially more of a
plan than he’d had when he got out.
“I’m not taking your money, Ronan.” Adam said, still sounding pissed.
“What are you doing this weekend?” Ronan asked because that was kind of pivotal
to the plan. Adam paused.
“N-nothing.”
“Good.” Ronan said and pulled tight around him the idea that literally nothing
fucking mattered. Existentialism as protection. “Then, we’re going to go to my
place. And I’m going to fuck you until you can’t stand. And then you’re going
to fuck me probably. Then we’re going to sleep. Rise, rinse, repeat, all
weekend. And by Monday, you will have earned this.” He handed over the
envelope. And then he looked at Adam and what a fucking joke, of course it
mattered. It mattered far too much.
 
There was a long pause where Ronan tried to un-know what he’d just realized.
But then Adam nodded and it was okay after all.
Ronan started the car and headed in the direction of the apartment.
It took about 35 minutes to get there from Adam’s neighborhood. It felt strange
once they got to familiar streets. How many times had Ronan driven this route
after a night with Adam, thoughts lingering with him? And now Adam was with
him.
 
Everything felt different with an observer. He wondered if Adam thought it was
strange when they turned towards the warehouses. When they got there and went
into the building he wondered if the freight elevator looked chic and cool as
Gansey insisted it did or dangerous and rickety as Ronan always teased him it
was. And when they actually got up to the apartment he was abruptly aware of
how very  lived in  it looked, how much you could tell about a person by
looking at the space they inhabit.
“My room.” Ronan said, nodding towards the loft and pushing away the sudden
unease.
Adam walked a bit further into the main room, gaze sweeping over everything,
assessing. He paused on Gansey’s favorite seat on the couch which was very
visibly just-vacated.
“I kind of kicked out my roommate.” Ronan said.
“Where’s he going to go?”
“Eh, he’ll go spend the weekend with a colleague in Wales.”
Ronan forced himself to lead Adam up to the loft. Adam had his money, he could
have left whenever he wanted, the fact that he didn’t was comforting and Ronan
relaxed a little.
“Do you want a beer?” Ronan asked although as soon as he said it he realized
what a stupid idea it was. Adding alcohol to this situation would be exactly
the wrong move. But Adam nixed the idea with a shake of his head and Ronan
shrugged in relief, taking off his jacket.
Adam started undressing and Ronan hadn’t really meant it that way but he
followed suit.
 
This, at least, was familiar. The curve of Adam’s spine as he tugged off his
pants, the Virginia tan against white sheets. But this time it was Ronan’s
sheets, Ronan’s bed, Ronan’s apartment warmer and softer around the edges,
inviting them both to relax into it.
 
They fucked and it was exactly how he’d imagined: hearing Adam’s breathy sounds
bouncing off the high ceilings, feeling the thrill of being with Adam mix with
the soothing nature of the apartment. He felt everything narrow down to the
space between their bodies, to Adam’s hard cock, to the gentle, so gentle,
slide of his teeth along Adam’s collarbone. He was hyper aware of Adam’s every
movement, barely even noticing his own pleasure building and cresting.
He came too soon. Adam was still hard. He rolled off to wipe his eyes on the
pillow and made a little ‘give me a sec’ sound into the fabric.
 
But when he turned back Adam looked distracted and had made no move to touch
himself so Ronan didn’t either. He just got a washcloth and cleaned them up.
Then he settled back on the bed, not crowding Adam the way he wanted to. After
a second Adam rolled onto his side.
One hand cupped the side of his head, nimble fingers sinking into mussed hair,
body a lithe line of smooth skin. Ronan tried not to stare too intently, tried
to pretend disinterest but he didn’t know if it worked. Adam – from his cool,
dark eyes to his awkwardly large kneecaps and every sweeping line and gentle
curve in between – was beautiful. Ronan could have studied him for hours but
there was a tense crease around his eyes than Ronan wanted to ease first.
 
“Can I help you?” he asked purposely off-hand. Adam’s face, Ronan knew, always
tended towards a focused scowl, a thoughtful frown. He always looked
calculating. So there was nothing truly different about Adam’s face as he
thought through the moment. But to Ronan there was.
 
Adam reached out a steady hand and touched Ronan’s chest with gentle
fingertips. Ronan’s eyes were drawn to the line they traced as they slid down
his chest to his bellybutton and then back up again.
“Is there something… you want? That we haven’t done?”
“Like what?” Ronan asked, wondering if Adam was angling for something and eager
to know what he wanted.
 
“Anything.” Adam said, leaving the choice up to him. And there were a thousand
things, a thousand dreams of Adam and the things they could do together. How
could he even begin to name them without giving away every thought he’d had
lying awake late at night wishing for the weekdays to pass more quickly. Then
he remembered the dream thing in his drawer. When he’d created it asking had
seemed so simple, maybe it could still be.
 
“Well, since we’re here… there is one thing.”
He rooted around in the drawer for a moment before finding the toy. He held it
out for Adam to take but he just looked for a second, before reaching forward
to feel the warm metallic surface.
“Where’d you get this?” Adam asked and Ronan almost laughed.
 
“Custom made.” he said. Adam looked somewhat bemused but the strained look had
faded and he seemed open to the possibility. Ronan grabbed the lube and spread
a generous amount over the toy. Adam was already moving, settling on his back
and spreading his legs. Ronan kneeled between them heart pounding in
anticipation.
 
The toy slid in easily and Adam’s breath stuttered for a second, caught in his
lungs. Ronan pushed it deeper until the base flared under his fingertips. Adam
moved a bit, biting his lip and face a mask of concentration as he adjusted to
the feeling. Ronan could tell, just by looking at him, that he was thinking too
much.
 
With a mental nudge the toy began to vibrate. Just a low buzz at first, giving
Adam a taste, which he seemed to enjoy if the gasp was anything to go by. Ronan
upped the intensity just to see Adam’s face slacken in pleasure. He made small,
smooth strokes with the toy and eventually Adam’s eyes fell shut, expression
positively rapturous.
Ronan couldn’t help himself. He laughed just a little, pleased.
“Good?” he asked.
 
Adam seemed to struggle to open his eyes before giving Ronan an unamused look.
“Have you  tried  this?” Adam said, as if Ronan was the one who’d taken leave
of his senses.
“No,” he said, deadpan, “I use it as a paperweight.”
 
That made Adam laugh just a little and Ronan smiled in triumph before pushing
the toy into another gear with a thought. Adam’s laugh turned into a groan.
Ronan kept up the steady rhythm, loving the undone roll of Adam’s hips. He knew
what this felt like from the other side, how completely overwhelming perfect it
felt to have the toy alive and kicking inside him.
Adam started to whine and Ronan could barely breathe with how much he wanted to
taste every inch of Adam’s rosy, sweating skin.
“That’s it. Come on.” Ronan said, not even aware of the words as they came out
of his mouth. “Come for me.”
And he did, cock bobbing and come striping his chest, and in his voice Ronan’s
name sounded like a prayer.
 
Ronan thought he might die if he didn’t kiss Adam right this second, so he did,
deep and possessive and joyous. Ronan pulled away and felt his own mouth moving
but had no idea what he said, he was too busy watching the haze slowly clear
from Adam’s eyes.
So he saw the moment the toy, still buzzing, began to hurt. Without a conscious
thought he dropped the intensity down again until it was barely moving. But he
didn’t stop it, not yet.
 
“Think you can get hard again?” Ronan asked. He’d tried this before on himself,
pushing past discomfort back into pleasure and finding the end result worth the
wait. Adam looked up past Ronan’s shoulders, thinking, before nodding. And
Ronan knew he wouldn’t regret it.
He pulled the toy halfway out so that it couldn’t touch Adam’s prostate and let
Adam cool down.
 
Adam shivered and shifted at the sensation, Ronan knew at this point it would
almost feel like too much. But after a few minutes Adam nodded and Ronan pushed
the toy a little deeper.
Adam cried out, and it wasn’t in pleasure. Ronan stopped immediately and the
toy cut out.
“Hey, hey?” Ronan ducked down, trying to get some kind of response from Adam.
His eyes focused and now that the toy was off there didn’t seem to be any pain
in his expression. “You’re fine.” Ronan said, more a question than anything
else.
Carefully Ronan slid the toy out of Adam’s body, Adam let out a huge sigh of
relief. Ronan felt like a fucking asshole.
“I’m fine.” Adam said, almost as if he knew what Ronan was thinking. Clearly,
he didn’t though, because the next this he said was, “Sorry.”
“No,” no, no, no, “You’re good.” Ronan wanted to punch something. Instead he
just started cleaning the toy with the washcloth from earlier. Just because he
liked something didn’t mean Adam would. He was so stupid.
 
He sat looking at the toy until he heard Adam’s breathing slow in sleep. Then
he went to boil some water and took a bit of pleasure in dropping the toy into
the bubbling pot. He turned off the stove and joined Adam back in bed, careful
not to wake him.
 
But he couldn’t get to sleep. He sat against the headboard and looked around.
He hadn’t had a nightmare in months. He’d let the traps sag and hadn’t set them
up again. And now, if he did bring a night horror back, he wouldn’t need to
worry about it getting down the stairs to Gansey, instead Adam would be right
in the line of fire, stuck between the night horror and its prey. What the fuck
was wrong with him? How could he risk Adam’s life on the off chance that his
clear streak would continue? How could he ask Adam to risk his life by being in
this apartment without even knowing what he was in the apartment with? What
Ronan was.
 
It was late and Ronan was tired but suddenly it seemed to clear. If he wanted
Adam here, close to him, in danger, the very least he could do was be
completely honest. This lie by omission had to end. Enough was enough.
 
He almost woke Adam right then, almost spilled the only secret he’d been sure
he would keep forever. But looking at Adam, still except for the gentle rise
and fall of his chest, Ronan couldn’t really understand why he’d been
frightened even a moment before. With Adam here there would never be a risk of
a nightmare or a night horror. Because when Adam was here there was nothing to
be afraid of, not an inch of Ronan that wanted to tear himself apart.
He stayed awake, watching Adam sleep or looking at the ceiling, until the sun
rose and bathed the scene in chill winter light, just the hint of spring warmth
creeping in. Then, finally, Ronan slept.
Adam rudely woke him not long after.
“Fuck, what  time  is it?” Ronan whined.
“Nine.”
“Fuuuuck.” But Adam had gone to the effort of actually making food so Ronan ate
it and it was pretty good. But he couldn’t keep his eyes open and as soon as he
finished he fell back to sleep.
After what felt like about five minutes Adam woke him again, with a blowjob
this time, which was a brilliant idea because there was literally no way for
Ronan to be angry about being woken up like that.
 
Ronan stumbled to the phone and called a sandwich shop a few miles away that
delivered their lunch. The apartment looked different somehow but he couldn’t
pinpoint why. He’d forgotten about it by the time the food got there and woke
him up the rest of the way.
Then there was a pleasant surprise all over again: Adam here, in the apartment,
comfortable in just underwear and a pair of Ronan’s sweats which sat
dangerously low on his hips and almost covered his toes. It was almost a shame
to get him out of the clothes for a shower, but worth it for the feel of hot
water beating against his forearms where they were wrapped around Adam’s waist.
 
As they washed lazily Ronan thought about all the possibilities this
opportunity afforded him. Adam in the apartment was something he’d thought of
often. There were so many things he wanted to do, so many things he hadn’t
allowed himself to ask for because it had felt wrong and out-of-bounds in their
usual hotel rooms. But now Adam had come here, had agreed to spend a whole
weekend here. There was one thing in particular that Ronan had wanted for
awhile.
He waited until they were out of the shower and back in bed to ask. He wasn’t
sure if this was okay. He didn’t really know the etiquette for switching
positions in sex. Was he supposed to wait for Adam to offer? Adam had asked
yesterday if there was anything Ronan wanted to do, was that an ongoing
invitation?
Fuck it. This was stupid. Either Adam was okay with it or he’d say he wasn’t.
Ronan bluntly refused to feel nervous.
 
“Want to fuck me?” he asked, light, with a little waggle of his eyebrows to
emphasize how big a deal it was not. Adam looked like he wanted to laugh.
“If you want.” Adam said, and Ronan’s insides relaxed. Adam grabbed for the
lube but then paused. Maybe he was reconsidering.
“How do you feel about rimming?”
Ronan smiled, pleasantly surprised that Adam hadn’t changed his mind, the
opposite really.
“Why Ah-dum, I do declare.” he teased, flippant in his relief. He turned over
and spread his legs, up for anything that Adam suggested.
 
The first touch of Adam’s tongue was… strange. Ronan clenched and released his
hands over and over again, trying to get used to the feeling. There was
something so incredibly intimate about it, more so than anything else they’d
done. He tried to relax, focus on the feeling of Adam’s hands on his ass, the
warm wash of breath that made him shiver as Adam licked over and over at his
asshole. It didn’t take long for ‘strange’ to become ‘good’ to become ‘very
very good’ and he let out an unbidden moan as Adam pushed his tongue a little
further inside.
The intrusion was smaller than a toy or even fingers but the wet heat of it
sent sparks up his spine.
 
At some point he couldn’t stand it, started swearing absentmindedly as Adam
sucked at his rim. He wasn’t overly gentle, teeth occasionally scraping just a
bit and Ronan liked it that way. He loved the rhythm of it, the way Adam’s
tongue stretched him until he was loose enough to easily take a long slender
finger. The second finger came just as easily and Ronan couldn’t control how
his body moved, hips twitching and words dissolving into a ragged moan.
 
He was panting and sweating and already on the edge of coming when he
remembered this was  not  where he’d planned for this to go. If Adam didn’t
change gear quickly Ronan wouldn’t even be able to fully appreciate the first
time Adam fucked him.
“Fucking fuck me already.” he said, too worked up to care about how he sounded.
Adam gave one last lick before pulling away and grabbing a condom. Ronan
collected himself for the herculean task of getting onto his hands and knees.
“You ready?” Adam asked when Ronan stopped moving.
“Fuck you.” he panted, and Adam laughed at him.
 
But before he could properly formulate a complaint Adam lined himself up and
slid in. Ronan was rendered momentarily speechless as Adam rested his head on
Ronan’s back. Then he started swearing again, voice low but vehement.
 
“Adam, Adam, goddamnit, fucking fuck, just yeah, please, like, yeah, like
that,” he said as Adam quickly fell into a brutal rhythm.
 
He’d kind of thought Adam fucking him wouldn’t be that different from fucking
himself with the toy. But it turned out it was very fucking different. When he
was alone there wasn’t the steady presence of Adam against his back, his own
little grunts and gasps as he fucked Ronan. Adam’s presence caged Ronan in and
he felt safe and overheated and so turned on he couldn’t think straight.
 
Then Adam kissed Ronan’s back and the last word on Ronan’s lips tripped and
fell out of them. “F-f-fuck.” Too emphatic and revealing but Adam didn’t seem
to notice. He just left a lazy wet line of kisses across Ronan’s shoulders,
down his back and up again. It felt more intimate even than having Adam’s
tongue up his ass: the feeling of gentle kisses while Adam was deep inside him.
It was too much and Ronan had to bite back something like a sob. Everything
narrowed to Adam’s mouth and when Ronan felt the first bare brush of teeth
against his skin he groaned, loud and obvious.
 
“Do it.” he said, wanting Adam to let go, wanting every single thing Adam was
willing to give.
And Adam gave it to him, biting down as he came, hips stuttering and moan
muffled. It hurt. Of course it did. But Ronan had never felt anything so
perfect in his life, like the pain of bruised knuckles but better.
 
Adam pulled out and without really thinking about it Ronan flipped over, hard
and impatient and wound too tight. The presence of Adam half on top of him,
body warm against his from ankle to shoulder, was grounding as was Adam’s hand
joining Ronan’s on his cock. He sucked in a few breaths, back arching and
bitten shoulder grinding into the mattress, and came.
 
He floated for a while in the darkness behind his eyes, hand still half-tangled
with Adam’s and heart beating too fast. After a few minutes he became aware of
the tears rolling silently down the sides of his face and although he could
feel Adam’s face pressed into his collarbone, he didn’t want him to suddenly
look up and notice. So he threw the free arm over his eyes and let them water
as they would.
Their quiet breaths lulled him back into a light sleep.
===============================================================================
 
The day got away from him somehow. They played video games and it was easy,
natural, almost like being friends. He’d thought about it before, how if they
had met differently there might have been a chance of them being friends.
 
They fucked and ate and slept and fucked some more and Ronan wanted it to never
end.
 
That night he dreamed that he and Adam were sitting in a forest, watching a
puppet show. Puppet Ronan danced a jig to a tune his father used to hum and
Puppet Adam clapped before getting up to leave.
“Wait,” the Ronan Puppet said. “Stay with me.”
“I don’t belong here.” Adam’s Puppet replied and Ronan felt the Dream Adam
tense beside him.
“I don’t belong here either.” Ronan said, desperate for Adam to stay, “Stay
with me.”
 
When he woke he felt something cool and smooth in his palm. That was why he
always tried to sleep with his hands hidden by the pillow, it meant if things
appeared in his hands no one would see it.
He pulled the dream thing out to look at.
 
It was the tiny Adam Puppet, perfect and realistic down to its little cloth
freckles. But he was stuck inside a glass bottle and something about that made
Ronan queasy. He was still staring at it when Adam shifted slightly and blinked
into wakefulness.
“What’s that?” Adam asked and Ronan desperately didn’t want to explain this
creepy little doll to Adam.
“Nothing.” he said, dropping it in the bedside drawer before Adam could get a
look at it.
“Can’t sleep?” Adam said.
Ronan shrugged. The dream still seemed to lurk in tatters at the edge of his
vision, and Ronan worried if he went to sleep he would fall back into it.
Adam got up.
“Where are you going?” Ronan asked.
 
“To pee.” he said and Ronan listened to his bare feet make quiet sounds against
the floor in the room below. But rather than coming back to the loft after the
bathroom Adam’s footsteps went over to the window. Ronan grabbed a condom and
the lube and followed him down: if he was awake enough to take in the sights
perhaps Ronan could suggest a fuck.
When he got down the stairs he saw Adam leaning against the window, fingers
spread over the surface, silhouette breaking up the tired neon gold glow of the
city.
“What are you doing?” Ronan asked, although he knew. He knew that seeing a city
when everyone else was asleep was some kind of magic. And it seemed right for
Adam to witness it, for Adam to be here, right now, with him.
Ronan wanted him so much. Honestly, he was sore and he was tired and at this
point he could take or leave the sex. But Ronan wanted  him , wanted Adam and
this was the only part of Adam that was being offered. So Ronan would take it.
 
He walked forward until there was no space between him and Adam and the city
beyond. Adam smiled up at him and drew him into a kiss. In some ways it was
better than sex, not as visceral, not as all-consuming but it almost felt
sacred, in the darkness, to feel Adam’s lips against his and for a moment Ronan
wondered what it would have been like if they had had this first: chaste kisses
after a day of playing video games instead of sex and the too-sharp look in
Adam’s eye.
 
After a moment Adam slid his hand up to cup that back of Ronan’s head and then
turned them so Ronan was pressed up against the glass. He handed Adam the lube
as they finally broke away from each other.
“Turn around.” Adam said, and Ronan smiled because Adam’s face was soft in the
dim light and his eyes didn’t look cagey, but molten.
 
Ronan didn’t say anything, for once stemming the flood of curses and
encouragements. He just drifted on sensation and quiet of nighttime until Adam
came and Ronan followed shortly thereafter. Then they retreated back up to bed
and Ronan stared into the dark shadows where he knew Adam’s eyes to be and
imagined he could see the movement of each slow blink until they both fell into
sleep.
===============================================================================
 
The magic, such as it was, was gone when they woke up the next morning. They
fucked and they had breakfast and they played together and it felt so much like
everything Ronan wanted. So of course, his mind started to drift, started to
whir, started to whisper about everything that was wrong with this picture.
Because they weren’t friends, they weren’t lovers holed up for a weekend alone.
Ronan couldn’t say everything he felt, couldn’t say  anything  he felt because
Adam didn’t want to hear it.
 
But it didn’t matter, because right here, right now, felt like home and comfort
and belonging so sharply that it reminded him of the Barns, of his family, of
the time before his father died when everything was simple.
So when Adam asked, throwing down the controller, “What do you want to do?”
Ronan said, too honestly, “I want to go home.” And he did. He ached for it. He
missed Gansey, he missed his mother and Matthew and that year when he’d had
everything and a home too.
“What?” Adam asked and Ronan was completely incapable of explaining the tight
ball of sickness and fear and regret in his chest.
 
“Nothing. Nevermind. You meant sex, right?” Ronan said because he couldn’t
stand to think about it anymore. Adam nodded somewhat warily.
“Come ‘ere.” Ronan lay back on the couch invitingly. Adam lay over him, legs
tangling together and chest against chest. But it still wasn’t close enough.
“No,  here .” he said, and tugged him into a kiss.
 
Adam immediately relaxed. Ronan hadn’t even been aware that Adam was on edge
until the tension slid away. That was what Ronan wanted: Adam completely and
totally at ease, relaxed and comfortable and safe. He didn’t move his hands
from Adam’s waist, thought again of starting here, making out on couches, the
thrill of bodies pressed close with clothes in between them. Adam bit at his
lip and that wasn’t quite right. He thought of what he would have wanted, if
he’d had his friend Adam on top of him like this.
 
Ronan pulled away and looked at Adam for a moment, trying to imagine it. If he
were touching Adam for the first time, nervous and awkward, what would he do?
“Can I blow you?” he asked. Adam looked startled.
“What?”
 
Ronan couldn’t help but grin, even if it didn’t play into his little inner
story. This was better in some ways, knowing Adam and Adam’s body the way he
did. He leaned close to Adam’s good ear and whispered, “Can I… blow you?”
 
“I-if you want.” Adam said, still obviously a little taken aback. They
scrambled a little so Ronan was on top and Adam was lying back. Adam pulled off
his underwear and Ronan knew his body so well, knew every curve and edge, knew
the knobby knees and sharp collarbones.
His mouth, he realized as his eyes came to rest on Adam’s dick, was watering.
 
Slowly, gently, Ronan took Adam into his mouth. He wasn’t hard yet and there
was something wonderful about feeling him swell on Ronan’s tongue. Ronan didn’t
know what to do with his mouth, tried sucking a little, moving back and forward
the way he figured he was supposed to. Adam was staring down at him and Ronan
knew Adam was quiet in bed but he wished now for more direction, for a steady
stream of orders so he wouldn’t feel quite so out of his depth.
 
Instead Adam brought a hand up to the back of Ronan’s head, not guiding just
sitting there. Ronan took it as encouragement anyway and tried to take more of
Adam into his mouth. He got further but it hit the back of his throat and he
had to pull back quickly.
 
“Use your hand.” Adam ordered, palm still a gentle pressure at the base of
Ronan’s skull. Ronan made a pleased affirmative noise and wrapped his hand
around the part of Adam’s cock he couldn’t take into his mouth. He wished Adam
would keep talking as he carefully synched up the movement of his hand with the
slick slide of his mouth. He worried that it was too messy, to unpracticed,
like trying to lecture Gansey on Glendower: an exercise in embarrassment.
He tried again, slowly, so slowly, taking Adam deep as he could and pushing
past the discomfort before pulling back to breathe.
“You’re doing so good.” Adam said, voice rough and a little awkward. Ronan’s
eyes shot up to Adam’s face as his pulse pounded in his ears. Better than
direction, it was encouragement. Carefully Ronan slid back down Adam’s cock as
his own hand slipped inside his boxers. He began to jack himself off roughly as
he swallowed, Adam’s dick against the back of his throat. “Just like that.
Good.”
 
The words made his dick throb and his spine tingle. He never wanted to hear
anything else, just that, just Adam’s low voice, accent more pronounced around
words of gentle praise.
Adam dug his fingernails in and dragged them across the back of Ronan’s head
and the sharp bite of sensation forced a moan out of Ronan’s throat. He was so
close, hand moving quickly over his cock even with half his mind focused on
Adam’s dick and the sharp bitter taste of precome on his tongue.
 
He knew he was too messy now, saliva slipping from the side of his mouth but he
couldn’t stop moving, over and over again sucking Adam down, swallowing,
pulling back and breathing, and then back in again. Adam’s other hand cupped
his cheek and he spoke again.
“So good. God, you’re amazing.” Adam said, barely above a murmur but Ronan
strained to hear every word. “You feel so good. Just keep going, you’re doing
so well.” His cheeks burned and his eyes did too, loving the taste and the
feeling and Adam’s words echoing in his ears. “Yeah, Ronan. Ronan, fuck you’re
so good. Please.”
 
And then Adam was coming as though it had snuck up on him. Luckily Ronan had
been on an upstroke so he didn’t choke on the come suddenly flooding his mouth.
He swallowed and kept swallowing until it was gone as Adam shuddered through
his orgasm.
 
Adam relaxed and started to soften in his mouth so Ronan pulled off and panted
into Adam’s hip. He was so close, wanted it so bad, but he didn’t want to
speak, wanted to just hear Adam’s voice in his head forever. Adam’s hand was
running gently over his head and down his neck and there wasn’t an ounce of
tension in the muscles of Adam’s stomach under Ronan’s free hand.
 
He knew he was moaning but he couldn’t hear it over the rush of blood in his
ears. He came with a cry and it was so good.  He  was so good. Adam had said
Ronan was good. He felt the tears slip out of the corners of his eyes but he
really didn’t give a shit right now.
 
“Hey, hey.” Adam said, apparently of a different mindset. Ronan just stroked
himself through the aftershocks and ignored him. “Hey,” he said again, “are you
okay?”
“Shut up,” Ronan mumbled, lips brushing the soft skin of Adam’s hip.
“Did I do something wrong?” No, no, no, everything was perfect. He didn’t say
that, obviously.
“Ugh,” he said instead, loving how wrecked his voice was, “shut up. It’s
nothing. I always do this.” There were still a few errant tears but the rest of
Ronan was floating in a post-orgasm haze.
“No, you d-” Adam stopped. Then there was a pause and Ronan almost smirked
against Adam’s skin. “Oh.” he said after a moment.
“Yeah.” he said, unwilling to feel uncomfortable or ashamed.
“Okay,” Adam said, after only a second’s pause. “You did so good.”
Ronan suppressed a full body shiver at the words, dug his face further into the
crease of Adam’s thigh. When he’d composed himself enough to speak he said, for
the third time:
“Shut  up .”
 
They lay like that for a while, as Adam made circles in Ronan’s hair with his
thumb and Ronan’s tears dried. Then Adam guided him up by the back of his head
into a kiss. They stayed like that for a while more, exchanging easy, light
kisses.
 
Eventually Ronan pulled away. He took off his dirty boxers and dropped them on
the floor which caused Adam to make a little disgusted face. Ronan just
laughed, full of some feeling he didn’t want to name. Then he pulled Adam back
to bed even though he wasn’t tired, just curled around Adam’s back and breathed
in the smell of him. He never wanted this moment to end.
But it had to. Ronan knew that. The sun set and they got dressed for the first
time since Friday. There was silence and it wasn’t awkward, they were usually
pretty quiet, but somehow it was still painful, like the slow rip of a band-
aid.
 
This weekend had felt so surreal, like one of the rare perfect, fearless
dreams. They were just about to walk out the door when Gansey called.
“Hey.” Gansey said.
“Hey.”
“So, can I come back now?”
Ronan glanced over at Adam hands balled in his pockets by the elevator.
“Yeah, I’m just headed out now. I’ll be back soon.”
“Good. Because I seem to remember you promised me an explanation.”
“Yup.” Ronan said, popping the ‘p’ sound obnoxiously before hanging up.
Ronan grabbed his keys and walked over to Adam. The silence descended again and
Ronan wanted to do something stupid as they rode the elevator down, like reach
over and grab Adam’s hand. But he didn’t.
 
When they got in the car he turned on the music out of habit more than desire
to listen. Adam’s face when Ronan glanced over was impassive, as though he was
already thinking about other things, already walking away and Ronan wanted to
tug him back. But it wasn’t his place. So he drove Adam back to his
neighborhood without saying a word.
 
“Friday?” Ronan asked when he’d stopped the car and turned down the music.
“Sure.” Adam was too much of a professional to sound less than perfectly
conciliatory.
“You have your money?” he asked as Adam reached for the door handle. Ronan
wasn’t ready for him to leave.
“Yeah.” Adam said, and this time he did sound a little like he thought Ronan
was an idiot, “I got it.”
Ronan didn’t say goodbye. Because that’s not what they did. And he didn’t let
himself watch Adam walk away, just started the car and headed back to the
apartment.
Now that Adam was gone he felt antsy and untethered, wanted to drive somewhere,
anywhere, too fast and reckless. But he was very aware of the difficult
conversation that was waiting for him at home. The whole way back he was trying
to figure out some way to say this that wasn’t awful, wouldn’t make Gansey hate
him.
 
When his headlights illuminated the curve of the Camaro’s back window Ronan
felt something inside him loosen a bit, inexplicably comforted by the familiar
sight. This was Gansey, Ronan reminded himself, he hadn’t driven Gansey away
yet. Maybe he wouldn’t manage it this time either.
 
Gansey was on his bed when Ronan came in, shoes off, glasses on, the contents
of a small suitcase half strewn out beside him and a book open on his lap, as
if he had been unpacking before getting side-tracked. When the elevator door
clanged shut behind Ronan he looked up, carefully sliding a bookmark into the
book and setting it aside. He looked Ronan over carefully, checking for
injuries or a drunken sway or whatever it was Gansey saw when he looked at
Ronan. And that assessing gaze at least was familiar. Ronan cocked an eyebrow,
held his hands up by his side and turned in a little circle to give Gansey the
full view. Apart from one hickey on his collarbone there wasn’t much to see, at
least not with his clothes on.
“Have fun with Malory?”
 
“I didn’t go. I rented a hotel room and hiked around the woods outside
Henrietta.”
Henrietta was a small town a few hours away that Gansey was more than a little
obsessed with. Ronan had spent an inordinate amount of time that summer
investigating the sleepy little town. He felt a little bad that Gansey had gone
alone this time.
 
“Find anything interesting?” he asked, because if he had there was a chance of
distracting him and maybe putting this conversation off until later. But no
luck, Gansey just cocked his head to the side and sighed like a put-upon
parent.
“Ronan.”
“Yeah, I know.” he said, collapsing next to Gansey on the bed, lying back,
knees brushing.
“Who is he?” Gansey asked when Ronan didn’t say anything else.
“Just a-” But he cut himself off. Adam wasn’t ‘just’ anything. “A guy I picked
up. We have sex.” Gansey has turned where he sat so he can look down at Ronan
sprawled on the bed. Ronan closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see Gansey’s
face for the next part. “For money.”
“What like-”
“Like I pay him and we fuck.” Ronan said to the darkness behind his eyelids. He
imagined that he could hear Gansey swallow. He couldn’t stand the silence so he
filled it. “That’s where I go on Fridays. We’ve been doing this for a while.
And I just, he needs the money Gansey, I can tell. And this time, I don’t know
he made up some bullshit excuse about school fees but I think he might be in
trouble or owe someone money. And I had to do something. I had to help him.”
He knew he said too much as soon as it was out of his mouth.
 
“You care about him.” Gansey said and it wasn’t a question. But Ronan nodded
anyway and bit his tongue as hard as he could. There was more silence but Ronan
didn’t have anything left to say. Finally, voice quiet, Gansey said:
“Can we help him?”
 
Ronan’s eyes snapped open and the first thing he saw was Gansey’s pinched face.
Ronan’s heart pounded because he didn’t look angry or disappointed, just
concerned, a little worried and determined like he did when he had a problem to
solve.
“What?” Ronan asked dumbly.
“Well, if you say he needs the money, and he’s sleeping with people to get it,
that’s hardly ideal. But I mean, we could look into job placement and finding
him an apartment if he doesn’t have one. If he’s in a bad situation we can get
him out of it.”
 
Ronan’s chest hurt. He was certain in that moment that there was no one in the
world so stubbornly, completely  good  as Richard Campbell Gansey III. He threw
himself up and wrapped his arms around Gansey’s neck. The angle was awkward,
hips twisted and half slipping off the bed but Ronan didn’t care, he just
viciously dug his nose into the crook of Gansey’s neck and held on as tightly
as he could.
 
They stayed like that for a long moment and Ronan thought of how he’d wanted to
help Adam, but had never really thought of it that way, how he would never be
the type of person Gansey was, never be that kind and thoughtful and good. But
that was okay, because he had Gansey here to make him better, to point out the
things his own selfish brain missed.
Finally he pulled away.
 
“That’s not going to be easy.” he said, because he knew Adam and Gansey didn’t.
“He won’t take charity. And he’s not looking for a knight in shining armor.
But… I’ll talk to him.”
“Good.” Gansey nodded.
“And in the meantime, you don’t- it’s not wrong.” He can’t bring himself to
make it into a question, too vulnerable already.
Gansey shrugged slowly.
“It is what it is. Better you than someone else.”
“Yeah.”
 
They were both quiet in thought for a moment. Then Gansey looked over at him
again.
“What’s his name?”
“Adam.” Ronan said and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Seeing it, Gansey
smiled too.
“What’s he like?”
Ronan had no idea how he could describe Adam, didn’t think there were words for
the things Adam was, but for Gansey, he would try.
***** our time now *****
Chapter Summary
     “Look, it’s not that easy. He wants to keep his distance and I can’t
     just come out and say ‘Hey, whatever shit you’re in, I am, or I know
     people who are, rich enough to make it disappear.’ I’m pretty sure
     he’d run and never look back.” And then, almost to himself, “He’s not
     really the easiest to talk to.”
     “But Ronan, you’re such a charming conversationalist.” Gansey said
     dryly and Ronan rolled his eyes.
     “Fine, you want to talk to him?” Ronan said.
Ronan tried to bring it up, that Friday.
“I talked to my roommate.” he said, words carefully casual, “He said we might
be looking for a third person to share rent.”
“Hmm,” Adam said noncommittally. And then, “Harder to sexile two roommates than
one.”
“I guess.” Ronan said, glancing over and trying to see if Adam was being
purposefully obtuse. “You know anyone who might be looking for a place?”
“No.” Blunt. And in it Ronan could hear,  you don’t know me  and  we’re not
friends  and maybe  don’t push me .
 
So Ronan dropped it awkwardly. When Ronan told Gansey about it later he looked
disappointed and understanding and it pissed Ronan off to no end.
“Look, it’s not that easy. He wants to keep his distance and I can’t just come
out and say ‘Hey, whatever shit you’re in, I am, or I know people who are, rich
enough to make it disappear.’ I’m pretty sure he’d run and never look back.”
And then, almost to himself, “He’s not really the easiest to talk to.”
“But Ronan, you’re such a charming conversationalist.” Gansey said dryly and
Ronan rolled his eyes.
“Fine, you want to talk to him?” Ronan said.
Gansey looked taken aback for a moment.
“What?”
Ronan shrugged.
“You could tag along, charm him, and then afterward the three of us could
talk.”
“You mean…”
“You’re twenty-four years old, Gansey-boy, I think you can say the word:
‘threesome.’”
Gansey blushed and Ronan snorted.
 
It had occurred to him before, that weekend in the apartment had particularly
brought it to mind. There was something wrong with having Adam here but Gansey
not, dividing up two important people in his life. Putting the two halves
together seemed… right.
 
And he and Gansey had kissed a few times, back in high school, Ronan knew there
was something there even though he’d always been too chicken-shit to make
anything of it, too worried about ruining their friendship. Just this though,
no strings, no feelings, just fun sex seemed like the perfect way to go about
it. If Gansey could get the hell over himself.
He was still blushing.
“I… do you think…”
 
And more than that, Ronan wanted Adam to meet Gansey, wanted to show him the
sleeker, better, kinder version of Ronan that was Gansey. He didn’t know why,
didn’t know what self-destructive urge pushed him to show Adam exactly what he
was missing, but anything less than that was a kind of lie. And Ronan was not a
liar.
 
“Just an idea, Gansey, relax. But yeah, I think Adam needs to meet you on even
ground, in a situation he knows if he’s going to trust you, us.”
Gansey ran his thumb over his bottom lip gently as he thought.
“O-kay,” he said eventually, “yeah, I mean, if you think so. I don’t, that
would be fine.”
“Fine?” Ronan said, mildly offended, he put a hand on Gansey’s shoulder.
“Gansey not to brag, but Adam’s gonna blow your fucking mind.”
He laughed as Gansey’s blush returned in full force.
They discussed it some more and decided a) the fewer delays the better, and b)
a hotel room might make Adam more comfortable than the apartment, free to leave
at any time and all that. Other than that they didn’t really talk about the
reality of it, just worked out practicalities, guessed at a price that would be
fair and then how much they could add to that before Adam would think it was
too much. Friday rolled around and Ronan and Gansey piled into the Camaro on
autopilot. They were quiet on the drive to Adam’s spot, Gansey refusing for
once to allow Ronan to crank up his own music. When they got there Adam was
already waiting.
Ronan rolled down the window as they stopped.
 
“Get in loser.” he said, smiling around the unsaid rest of the sentence.
“Was that a Mean Girls reference?” Gansey accused, knowing Ronan too well.
Adam didn’t move, eyes flicking between them and Ronan almost felt bad that
they hadn’t waited a week, let Ronan ask Adam before bringing Gansey along.
Ronan tried to project his own calm confidence in Adam’s direction.
“Come on.” he said, getting out and giving Adam room to get into the backseat.
Adam only hesitated a split second before getting in and Ronan slid back into
the passenger seat.
Gansey had clearly defaulted into what Ronan thought of as his ‘charming young
man’ mode because he offered Adam his hand between the seats.
“Gansey.” he said.
“Adam.” Adam returned, before dropping Gansey hand. Gansey pulled the car back
into the street. “Are you…?”
“Ronan’s roommate, yeah. And you’re his-” No one else would have even heard the
slight pause, but Ronan knew Gansey better than that, “Adam.” he finished
awkwardly. Ronan rolled his eyes and looked back at Adam.
“I’ve got three-hundred and fifty will that be enough?” They had debated going
an even four-hundred but decided that was pushing it.
“For-”
“For both of us, yeah.”
Adam’s face revealed nothing as he did whatever internal calculation he needed.
“Yeah,” he said after a moment, “Three-fifty should be enough.” Ronan couldn’t
stop smiling even though he probably looked like an idiot. It felt like the
moment before a race, tense and exciting and perfect.
 
He realized Gansey had gotten them to the hotel they had agreed on and quickly
got out. He paid for their usual room, trying to keep as much as possible the
same so Adam would feel comfortable. As they walked down the hallway Ronan
could hear the cadence of Gansey’s breathing, carefully controlled and self-
consciously even. Somehow that settled Ronan in his skin. He was the common
denominator here; it was his job to be calm.
 
So when they got into the room Ronan quickly took a spot on the bed, back to
the headboard, ready to orchestrate this whole affair, be it mess or
masterpiece.
“Come ‘ere.” Ronan said, patting the bed beside him, wanting Adam closer.
Adam’s face did something complicated but he sat and Ronan slung an arm over
his shoulders, reassuring him that they were here together, same as they always
were.
Gansey just stood awkwardly by the door, watching them.
 
“Gansey,” Ronan said, mock whisper but loud enough to be heard across the room,
“is a bit of a prude. So this should be interesting.”
“Just because I don’t walk around the apartment naked 24/7 does not make me a
prude.” Gansey said but it was rushed and defensive and just made Ronan smile
harder. He wanted to see Gansey squirm for a few minutes more but Adam had
other ideas. He shrugged out from under Ronan’s arm and walked over to Gansey.
 
“Can I kiss you?” he asked and Ronan could only imagine what it would feel
like, seeing Adam for the first time, intense and gorgeous and impossible, and
having him ask you something like that. Gansey couldn’t even make words, Ronan
saw his head bob. And they were kissing.
Ronan had expected, in a dim far off way, to be jealous. But there was only the
incandescent thrill of disparate parts of himself falling together perfectly.
He felt settled and assured and warm all over as Adam’s hands tugged at the
bottom of Gansey’s sweater.
 
Adam stripped him piece by piece and Ronan pulled off his own clothes clumsily,
caught up in the vision of the two of them. When Gansey was fully naked Ronan
came closer, almost worried he’d be burned by the bright heat of the two of
them, Gansey’s bare shoulder covered by Adam’s long-fingered hand. When they
broke their kiss Ronan took Adam’s place kissing Gansey.
 
It was different, they were different, than the kids who had kissed so many
years ago, and Ronan was aware of all the places he was rough and sharp, all
the ways he could hurt these two people, if he wasn’t careful. But he could be
careful. For them, he could.
 
So he was gentle when he led Gansey back to the bed and climbed over him. The
slide of skin against skin was incredible, to be this close to someone he knew
almost better than himself. But he was also very aware, as he turned them so
Gansey was on top, of the rustle of Adam undressing by the door. When the
sounds stopped he looked over Gansey’s shoulder and smiled at the more familiar
but no less astounding sight of Adam’s lithe nakedness.
Adam joined them on the bed and Ronan kissed him, deep and heated but trying to
be comforting.
 
“How do you want to do this?” Adam asked, eyes on Ronan. And somehow he hadn’t
thought this through, had fantasized and imagined but never really contemplated
the reality of having these two boys together in the same place. Suddenly he
didn’t want the responsibility of deciding, sure that he would do something
wrong.
Ronan’s gaze flicked to Gansey but he just stared back, ready and willing to do
anything Ronan asked. Looking back at Adam there was the same look, if a little
more guarded. Ronan couldn’t breathe with the weight of their trust.
 
“He could fuck you.” he managed, because it was the first thing he thought of
and he wasn’t sure he could explain anything more complicated than that. He
shrugged,  just a suggestion , he said with his eyes.
“Okay.” Adam said, accepting. He got up to get the lube and condoms and Ronan
moved so his back was to the headboard again and Adam returned, crawling past
Gansey so he was facing Ronan on all fours.
Ronan ran his hands through Adam’s hair as his pulse pounded in his ears and
Gansey slicked his fingers.
 
There was something still tense in the line of Adam’s back and Ronan didn’t
like it, but he supposed he could understand. Adding Gansey was new, different,
Adam was just taking a moment to adjust.
 
“Okay?” Ronan asked, wanting to be sure that Adam was on board before they went
any further. Adam nodded without hesitation and that soothed Ronan a bit.
 
With the first slick sound Adam’s breath caught for a second and Ronan wanted
to kiss him but the angle was wrong. Then Adam collapsed gracefully forward
onto his elbows, resting his forehead against Ronan’s thigh. Ronan kept
carefully petting Adam’s hair as Gansey stretched him.
 
And that was something else: Gansey. Methodical, determined, one-track minded
as Ronan watched his face, gaze focused on the place where his fingers
disappeared into Adam. It felt natural seeing Gansey like this, like a
continuation of every late night research binge or early morning drive, this
was Gansey as alive and present and boyishly real as Ronan had ever seen him.
 
He noticed Adam relax as Gansey added a third finger. And Ronan wanted to break
the silence, no words above their three stuttered, panting breaths. But he
didn’t. This wasn’t the time for talk, for praise even though he wanted to tell
Adam how good he was, how much Ronan lo-
How proud he was and happy that Adam was here with them, part of his life. He
thought if he opened his mouth all kinds of sappy shit might tumble out.
 
Gansey had pulled out and was rolling on a condom and Ronan felt Adam’s hands
dig into his thighs. Without thinking about it he pulled one hand from its
place in Adam’s hair and twined their fingers together. The angle was awkward
but Adam just squeezed Ronan’s hand tightly.
Ronan watched Gansey line up and then push in, solid and inexorable, and Ronan
couldn’t help himself.
 
“Go slow, but hard, that’s the way he likes it.” he told Gansey, but really the
words were for Adam.  See , they said , I know you ,  you can trust me, trust
us .
 
Gansey pulled out slower than Ronan would have, but thrust back with a force
that jarred a groan out of Adam so clearly he wasn’t doing too bad. The rhythm
was good and Ronan barely thought about anything but the sound of Adam’s moans.
 
After a few minutes Adam cut himself off mid-sound to say, “Wait, wait.”
Breathy but sure. Gansey stopped before Adam had even finished speaking. “No,”
he said, “Ronan, here.” And he tugged at Ronan’s thigh. Ronan moved
unthinkingly in the direction Adam pulled, wanting to be wherever Adam thought
he should be. When he was slumped down further Adam wrapped a hand around his
dick and Ronan shook a little. He’d almost forgot that he was present, so
consumed was he in Adam’s pleasure that his own faded into the background. But
it reared its head again as Adam said, quietly, “Okay.” As though now
everything was as it should be.
 
Gansey began moving again as Adam licked at the head of Ronan’s cock. And just
this, just Adam choosing to reach out, wanting him closer, was enough to have
Ronan on the edge, gritting his teeth and forcing his hand not to tremble where
it cupped the back of Adam’s head.
Curses started to slip out, muttered incomprehensible strings of every vulgar
word he could think of. Gansey laughed at him and Ronan groaned out a pointed
“fuck o-off” just for him. But Adam just took him deeper, swallowing as the
head of Ronan’s cock brushed the back of his throat.
 
Ronan watched through half-open eyes as Gansey began to jerk Adam off, kissing
along his back and Ronan wanted to be closer, wanted to be underneath Adam, or
pressed to Gansey’s side, wanted to be the one touching them both instead of
just someone being touched.
Gansey whispered something in Adam’s ear that Ronan couldn’t hear but he wanted
to. Adam swallowed over and over around Ronan’s cock and he would happily die
like this, with one hand buried in Adam’s hair and the other clutching at
Adam’s hand.
 
Gansey groaned through his orgasm and oh, that was what his best friend looked
like when he came. It was beautiful really but nonetheless Ronan filed it away
as something he could probably mock Gansey for later. Gansey didn’t move away,
just draped himself over Adam’s back and continued to jerk him. Adam pulled off
Ronan’s dick, and Ronan squeezed his hand encouragingly as he gasped and shook
and came.
 
As the aftershocks were probably still rolling through him, Adam took Ronan
back into his mouth, like he needed something to ground him. The bed shifted as
Gansey pulled out and disposed of the condom.
 
“Gansey.” Ronan managed. His voice was wrecked and he didn’t trust his mind
enough to speak, but he wanted Gansey back beside them. “A-a-” but he didn’t
get out Adam’s name before he was coming.
 
He was slow coming back to himself, aware first of Adam’s hair under his hand,
and then Gansey’s breath slowly evening out. He finally let go of his grip on
Adam’s hand and allowed Gansey to pull Adam onto his side, head bumping the
outside of Ronan’s thigh.
“Well?” he asked to the room at large. And it meant,  tell me that was okay,
tell me I’m allowed to have this, tell me you’re alright . He knew Gansey would
understand but he wasn’t sure Adam could hear everything he wanted to say.
Gansey laughed, warm and gently mocking, like  of course, you utter loser .
 
“Congratulations, you had a good idea. Probably your first.” Gansey said.
And he met Gansey’s gaze and it looked starry-eyed and blown away, no doubt
just the way Ronan’s did. He was beginning to think that was just Adam’s effect
on everyone. Now, Gansey would mention it, cool and easy in the silence, ‘If
you need a job we could set you up’ or ‘Do you need a place to stay?’ But
before Gansey could find whatever perfect words he had inside his chest, Adam
pulled away from them.
 
“Adam?” Ronan asked, worried by his swift, jerky movements.
“I’ve got to go.” And Ronan knew that tone of voice, knew it from the other
side: when Ronan sounded like that it meant he was barely holding it together.
Then Adam shrugged and it was gone behind the brick wall of his impassive face.
“I’ve got homework to do.”
 
And Ronan knew it was a lie, knew something was wrong but it was so sudden, a
jolt like the ground falling away from him and he didn’t know what to say,
didn’t know where it had gone wrong to start making it right.
“Oh,” Gansey said, with a wide-eyed glance at Ronan as Adam continued to dress.
“Of course. We’ll give you a ride.”  
“Sure.”
Ronan started getting dressed while his mind scrambled for something to say.
Gansey followed and it was  Gansey,  he had to know what to say, he always knew
what to say. But they were both struck mute by Adam’s cold eyes and steady
hands.
In the car Ronan and Gansey kept looking at each other, each daring the other
with their eyebrows to fucking say something. But Ronan couldn’t find the
words. He tried:
“Adam?” But didn’t even get as far as ‘are you okay?’ because Adam responded,
not looking away from the window.
 
“Uh, yeah?” Like it didn’t matter, like Ronan didn’t matter, like their
transaction was done and he was ready for this whole ordeal to be over. And
what the fuck did Ronan know, maybe that was what he was thinking. Maybe he
just wanted his money and a ride home, not some guy who thought he knew him,
some guy trying to be what? Friends?
 
“Nothing.” Ronan muttered, and swallowed bitterly.
And Gansey followed his lead, let the silence hang awkwardly until they got to
Adam’s neighborhood. Ronan didn’t want to get out, didn’t want to let Adam run
away, but he wasn’t enough of an asshole to make Adam stay when he clearly
didn’t want to. So he got out and pulled the seat to let Adam out.
“Almost forgot,” he said, because he knew if he said  wait  his voice would
crack. He pulled Adam’s money out and handed it over. “Next week?” he said,
trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.
Adam nodded and Ronan sighed, letting his go, getting back into the car and
letting Gansey drive them away.
 
Neither of them said a word until they were back to the apartment.
“What was that?” Gansey said, in the elevator up.
“That… was Adam.” And then, “I told you it wouldn’t be easy.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that.”
They collapsed on the couch and Ronan contented himself that at least they, or
he, could try again the next week.
***** crooked smiles fade *****
Chapter Summary
     At 11:13 he was cursing Adam for not at least calling ahead to let
     him know he’d be late. Then he remembered Adam still didn’t have his
     number.
     This realization was met with some creative and heart-felt cursing,
     some punching of the steering wheel and many sustained blasts on the
     horn. If he was annoyed then everyone around him damn well better be
     as well.
     It was his own fucking fault. He had suggested it back in winter but
     Adam had changed the subject and Ronan had never brought it up again.
     It was just that Adam was so reliable, he had forgotten that he
     didn’t have any other way to get in touch with him.
     By 11:46 he gave up.
Chapter Notes
     Special warnings for this chapter: Blood, canon-typical violence and
     canon-typical horror elements with discussion of night horrors.
He had a solid game plan this time, a script.
“Adam,” it started, “I know you can take care of yourself.”
Sure from there it was a little fuzzy, but Ronan was good at improvising, he
was sure he’d be fine. No Gansey this time, he decided that last week was an
indication that Gansey’s natural charm was apparently undone by his awkwardness
around sex and thus would do neither of them any good.
 
So just Ronan this time, in the BMW with the music up loud. When he got there
Adam wasn’t there yet, so he circled the block a few times before finding a
place to park a little way down the street with an eye on where he knew Adam
would be.
Then he waited.
It was 10:37 when he got there. By 11:00 he was annoyed. Sure they didn’t have
an exact time decided on but it was generally agreed that it was between ten
and eleven. Maybe Adam had gotten hung up at what Ronan assumed was his other
job, or whatever it was that left him grease-stained.
 
At 11:13 he was cursing Adam for not at least calling ahead to let him know
he’d be late. Then he remembered Adam still didn’t have his number.
This realization was met with some creative and heart-felt cursing, some
punching of the steering wheel and many sustained blasts on the horn. If he was
annoyed then everyone around him damn well better be as well.
It was his own damn fault. He had suggested it back in winter but Adam had
changed the subject and Ronan had never brought it up again. It was just that
Adam was so reliable, he had forgotten that he didn’t have any other way to get
in touch with him.
 
By 11:46 he gave up. Adam was clearly sick or busy and not going to show. He
gritted his teeth, at the very least Adam could have showed up to let him know
they couldn’t do anything this week. But by the time he got home he was
grudgingly glad that Adam hadn’t dragged himself across the city just to soothe
Ronan’s overactive nerves.
 
The weekend dragged by, the days of the week moving treacle slow as Ronan
ground his teeth.
“If this is the difference Adam makes, I should be paying him too.” Gansey said
on Wednesday when Ronan snapped at him for the thousandth time. Ronan did not
find that amusing.
Friday he got there at 10:04. He knew he was early but he was impatient,
damnit. So he settled down with his phone to play games that he didn’t really
like. At first he glanced up every few minutes, then he got sucked into a Latin
Vocab practice game (these fuckers would eat their high scores) and almost
forgot he was waiting for anyone. Adam would knock on the window when he got
there.
 
The next time he looked up it was 10:41 and there was still no sign of Adam.
Something heavy and dangerous settled in his stomach. He put away his phone and
tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, willing Adam to appear as the minutes
ticked past.
 
He waited until 12:11 and it was the longest hour and a half of his life. He
ran through every possible option.
Adam could have been sick two weeks in a row, it happens. But he didn’t show up
either week to let Ronan know. Unlikely, considering how shitty he’d looked
last time he was sick and he’d still come.
 
Adam had been sick last week and busy this week or some configuration of the
two. Again, unlikely for the same reason. This was about where he stopped being
able to be logical.
 
Adam was hurt. This was a terrifying thought considering the fact that he had
come after getting beaten up in January. And sure, Ronan had taught him how to
fight but what the fuck did that mean when numbers were against you. Or if it
was his pimp and he literally couldn’t fight back.
Ronan felt sick. But he focused on the other options.
 
Adam had caught on to Ronan and Gansey’s rather unsubtle attempts to help and
decided to book it out of there. Comparatively this was a good option. It
meant, if that was true, then Adam was safe if poorer. Or, maybe he was making
up the money somewhere other than this particular corner. In which case, a
determined voice in Ronan’s head piped up, Ronan could find him.
He realized now he should have been circling around all night, checking other
corners in case Adam was nearby. He would have to try tomorrow.
 
He drove home slowly, watching the sidewalk the whole time as though Adam would
suddenly jump out from between two warehouses. But of course there was nothing.
 
When he got back to the apartment he had a sudden shining thought: Adam knew
where he lived. Maybe he had come to the apartment while Ronan was waiting and
he would be upstairs with Gansey right now. It wasn’t the most logical thought
but still he bounced on the balls of his feet the entire elevator ride up. And
when there was just Gansey, working on some small model of the city he was
beginning to construct in the middle of the apartment, no Adam, he felt himself
crash back to earth, more worried and frantic than he’d been before.
“Gansey, something’s wrong.”
“Adam?” he asked, dropping the glue and cardstock. Ronan nodded.
“He didn’t show up.”
“Okay, do you know where he lives?”
Ronan shook his head, fear and helplessness boiling under his skin in a way
that felt comfortingly like rage.
“Do you know where he usually… works?”
“I know where I pick him up. But that’s where I just was.”
“Okay, we can try calling the hospitals, just… you know, in case.”
“And say  what ?”
“You’re his brother, I don’t know, whatever.” Gansey said, not really seeing
his point.
“I don’t even know his last name, Gansey.”
“...shit.”
Ronan scraped his nails over his scull, trying to make this situation anything
other than what it was.
 
“Could we- we don’t know what name he might give at the hospital,” Ronan said,
looking at the ripped cuffs of his jeans, “especially if he’s trying to get
away from someone. But can’t we just like, ask about people being brought in
beat up? Are they allowed to tell us about that?”
Gansey shrugged slowly before setting his jaw.
 
“Let’s go in person, I’m sure I can get some information.”
===============================================================================
 
So that was how they spent the early hours of the morning, driving from
hospital to hospital, talking to check in desk staff, Gansey smiling charmingly
while Ronan looked menacing over his shoulder.
 
They didn’t get any information about any assault victim with a first name
Adam, and Gansey at least was confident that this was because there wasn’t one,
not because they hadn’t impressed or worried the right people. But as dawn
approached, Ronan had to admit that they still knew next to nothing. They had
no idea when Adam disappeared; it could have been tonight, it could have been
last week in which case he probably (hopefully, god Ronan hoped) wouldn’t still
be in the hospital. They had only asked about guys coming in after being beaten
up but Ronan had no idea what kind of people Adam ran with, for all he knew
Adam could have been admitted for a gunshot wound, or a stab wound, or…
God, he couldn’t think about this.
 
Around seven Ronan and Gansey fell into their respective beds for some sleep.
But Ronan set an alarm to wake him up in the early evening.
 
His dreams were ghastly. Shadowed figures with sharp teeth and shiny metallic
knuckles. Not even the somewhat comforting tck-tck-tck of typical night
horrors. So much blood and he knew, the way you just knew things in dreams,
that it wasn’t his blood, that it was Adam’s blood, and there was so much of
it, too much. But no body, no Adam, just Adam’s blood all over his hands.
He had to wash the blood off his sheets when he woke up, thankful that Gansey
was gone, probably talking to the police although Ronan had no idea what Gansey
could say.
 
It was only just getting dark when Ronan left the apartment, hands still
trembling almost imperceptibly. He drove around the place he usually picked
Adam up at first, then branched out, he circled the neighborhood he dropped
Adam off in, cursing himself for never following Adam home.
 
He didn’t even know if Adam worked Saturdays. He assumed he must, they would be
high traffic days wouldn’t they? But there was no way to know where. He didn’t
even know what neighborhoods to look in. He really didn’t think Google was
going to cut it here but surprisingly he found a list of supposed areas on the
first try. But, driving around the places they listed didn’t really get him
anywhere and as the night wore on he saw more and more cop cars show up. There
was no way Adam would be around here, these were too well known.
 
Sunday, they did another circuit of the hospitals, going a little farther
afield this time just in case. Still nothing and Ronan could feel desperation
raking thick claws down his back.
He tried to sleep as little as possible. And he put up all the old traps that
he hadn’t needed in months. He knew with dreams like this it was only a matter
of time until he brought something back.
 
He slept during the day while Gansey was out or in his car in the mornings.
Around Tuesday it occurred to him that he did have some knowledge that you
couldn’t get through Google: he knew every drag racing spot in the state,
practically. And sure there wasn’t too much overlap but one kind of illegality
might beget another, or at least people there might know where to look.
So he drove: first just around the city, checking all the places he knew
sometimes had races. Most of them were empty during the week but Ronan found a
couple. He raced because at these things anyone who didn’t race was highly
fucking suspect. So he raced, even though he felt like he was going to choke on
how much he didn’t fucking care about any of this. Afterwards he asked around,
got the names of a couple neighborhoods to look at.
 
He was checking out his leads on Friday night and at one point he thought, just
for a second, that he saw Adam in the entrance to an alleyway, leaning into
some guy’s car. Ronan couldn’t see his face but something about the stretch of
his shoulders seemed familiar. But Ronan was going the other direction and by
the time he’d flipped a u-turn the boy and the car were gone. He kept circling
for the rest of the night but no one came back. At this point he couldn’t even
tell if he’d really seen what he thought he’d seen, or if his eyes were playing
hopeful tricks on him.
 
Saturday, he brought back something awful. It wasn’t a night horror, as he
thought of them, although it was clearly the same breed of creature. No beak,
no claws, but crow feathers in a thin densely packed layer like a skin over an
otherwise human shape. The only parts not covered with feathers were the
shining silver knuckles and the black abyss of its eyes.
It also didn’t seem to want to kill him, didn’t have the single minded fury of
the normal night horrors. It got its hands on his once and twisted until Ronan
thought it was going to break his arm. It didn’t want him dead, it wanted him
in pain, seemed to grow when Ronan cried out.
Getting free was mostly luck and a well-placed kick to its face. Killing it was
not luck, it was perseverance and sweat and a pair of scissors hacking away at
its chest until everything was covered in dark sticky blood that smelled like
rotting meat.
 
Cleaning up the loft afterwards as a whole different kind of nightmare. He
called Gansey, who by the grace of god had been out getting breakfast, and
warned him to stay at his parents’ for the day. Then he sacrificed one of his
sheets to the cause and managed to get the carcass out to the BMW, thankful
that they didn’t live in an area with much foot traffic because it definitely
looked like a human body he was lugging around.
After it was in the backseat, Ronan realized he had no fucking clue where he
was supposed to go with it. Normally he buried the night horrors in the dirt
basement of the warehouse, because they we obviously inhuman and even if anyone
found them it would open an X-file not a murder case. But after this body
rotted he thought the bones would be basically human. He had to bury it
somewhere where it wouldn’t be found.
He desperately wanted to call Gansey, get him to come home, get him to help
somehow, to fix it in that Richard Campbell Gansey III way of his. But he
didn’t, he just drove out of the city with the windows open for the smell and
the rain lashing in.
 
He didn’t realize where he was going until he was almost there. Without
thinking about it, like a compass lazily swinging North, he had driven him
home. And when he realized it, he didn’t turn around: he couldn’t think of a
better place to bury a body. But he wanted to, god he wanted to be anywhere but
here.
He had imagined coming home so many times. With Matthew. With Gansey.
Triumphant with Declan apologizing at his heels. Never, never alone. Under the
grey curtain of spring rain the house was quiet and the ground were dead. Ronan
didn’t venture into the fields, just found a shovel behind one of the sheds and
exhausted himself digging a hole beneath the plum tree at the end of the drive.
It took a while, and blisters formed and broke on his palms. By the time he’d
finished the rain had stopped and there was only an echoing silence pressing in
on his chest.
 
He threw the bloody shovel in the backseat and started the car, thankful for
the roar in a way he had never fully appreciated before.
On the drive back his eyes were bone dry but his breaths were ragged. It had
been a long time since he’d felt so acutely that he was falling apart. He
wanted to be angry, wanted to sneer at his own pathetic weaknesses but he was
too tired even for that. He was just empty, down to his bones.
===============================================================================
 
After that he slept in the car, with a hatchet under the seat. He came back to
the apartment during the day for clothes and a shower but mostly he just drove
and ate fast food in the BMW on the side of the road. He found a few more races
a little further out but didn’t learn anything he didn’t already know. He
alternated between nights in new, seedy neighborhoods and evenings in what he
thought of as Adam’s places, where Ronan had dropped him off or picked him up.
Every time he fell asleep he was afraid, and every time he woke up alone he was
a sickening mixture of relieved (no monsters) and disappointed (no Adam). Each
day felt like it was taking him further away and he was so scared. Scared of
the night horrors, yes, but also scared of finding Adam’s body in a ditch or
never finding out at all. He knew, eventually, he would have to let it go. He
would have to make himself believe that Adam had just left, moved away, found a
new part of town, that he’d wanted Ronan out of his life and found a way to
make it happen. That was the only way Ronan could accept that Adam was gone.
But not yet, he wasn’t ready to accept it just yet.
===============================================================================
 
He jerked awake when a door slammed.
“What are you doing here?”
It echoed in his head.
Adam.
It was Adam.
That voice was Adam, that face was Adam.
Ronan felt like he could breathe for the first time in weeks.
“You’re okay.” Ronan said, hands shaking where they were balled in his jacket
pockets.
“Of course I am.” And Ronan realized that was anger making Adam’s voice sound
like that.
“You didn’t show. I thought-” He cut himself off before he could say the
million things he’d imagined like horror movies on the insides of his eyelids.
“I thought,” Adam said, voice still sharp enough to cut, “not showing would be
easier than explaining. I thought you’d get the hint.”
 
The fear and worry caught fire in his gut, turned to ash and then to embers of
rage.
“Well, I didn’t.” And he wanted to say,  couldn’t you have told me?  and  why
did you make me worry?  and  God I thought you had died and I would never get
the chance to tell you the truth .
But he could see himself reflected in Adam’s eyes, see how unhinged he looked,
how this must look from Adam’s point of view, the crazy customer who won’t
leave. “So that’s it, we’re done?” he asked.
“We were never a ‘we’.” Adam said and Ronan wanted to call him a liar but he
didn’t know if maybe it was true.
“Why?” Ronan just wanted to hear him say it, hear him say that Ronan had gone
too far, pushed too hard, that he wasn’t looking for a savior and he didn’t
want a boyfriend.
 
“Do you think you own me? I was always selling a service, not myself. You just
bought a bit of my time.” It hurt like fresh scars but it was still better than
the alternative, than not hearing, not knowing, than all the other options. It
even made sense, Ronan had asked for too much, had gotten in too deep and even
if that wasn’t what Ronan had meant by his feelings, he couldn’t blame Adam for
that interpretation. “I don’t do threesomes.” he added and that didn’t make any
sense.
“I didn’t know that.” Ronan pointed out.
“You didn’t ask.” Adam shot back.
And he couldn’t be angry but he could be confused.
“I assumed if you didn’t do that you would, I don’t know,  tell me .”
And now Adam really looked agitated, not angry anymore but on edge, wild around
the eyes.
 
“I’m not some excuse for you to make out with your best friend. I’m not some
gift to give your roommate like-”
Ronan couldn’t help it, he covered his face with his hands and laughed, just a
short bark of a laugh but Adam stopped dead.
“That’s so, so not it.” Ronan said. He dropped his hands and looked out at the
street beyond, not really seeing it, just seeing Adam sitting in his peripheral
vision. “I know… I know what I am. I know I’m a-”  monster , he thought but
didn’t say “-spoiled rich guy with nothing but money to keep your attention. I
know I’ve got nothing to actually offer you.” How could he explain that he knew
even if Adam had nothing, he still wouldn’t want Ronan. “Gansey,” he said
instead, “was a gift to you. I wanted to show you the best part of myself. And
the best part of me…” too honest, too honest but he choked out the words, “is
him.”
 
And Ronan didn’t lie, but he never told the whole truth, or as close to all of
it as that came. In the silence he felt free, unburdened, alive.
Looking over Adam’s face was open and assessing and soft all at once.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked and Ronan nodded because he couldn’t think of a time
when the answer to that would be anything other than yes.
 
Kissing Adam felt like it always did, like flying, like racing, like falling.
But it also felt like relief and safety and possibility. Ronan was so careful,
tried to convey with every tiny movement that he never wanted this to end but
if this was the last time he would go gracefully.
When Adam finally pulled away he looked peaceful and settled in a way Ronan
hadn’t seen before but had never realized was missing.
“Okay,” he said, and he rested one hand over Ronan’s, gentle and sure, “take me
home.”
Ronan wanted to ask, wanted to voice the million questions. Wanted to ask  why
me? why now? are you sure? do you even know what this means?  but really he
just wanted to be close to Adam for as long as Adam would let him. But he had a
feeling this time that was what Adam wanted too.
===============================================================================
 
He didn’t steer them toward the apartment, instead letting himself drift back
to the Barns for the second time in as many weeks. It was so different, now
with Adam here and no dead horror filling the back seat. Clear skies but still
the silence.
 
Ronan wasn’t frightened now, wasn’t frightened that he would scare Adam away,
wasn’t frightened that he would lose himself inside his own desperation. So he
opened his mouth and started to tell a story he wasn’t sure he’d ever have the
strength to tell. Not all of it, not the magic ( not yet , his mind whispered,
which was not the same thing as,  not ever ). But the parts about Gansey, about
Declan and about his father.
 
It was a hard story to tell, but he hadn’t expected anything less. At one point
Adam pulled away, letting Ronan grind against all his own sharp edges, tearing
at parts of himself that had long laid rusting inside his chest. As the last
jagged piece of metal ripped away and the last words made their way out of his
mouth, Ronan breathed easier than he remembered having done since his father
died. In the silence, he glanced over at Adam who was looking out the window,
face closed off. Ronan turned back to the road, suddenly unsure if he’d done
the right thing.
 
Then Adam reached over and hooked their hands together again, soft and warm and
infinitely comforting. Ronan relaxed as they entered the hills around the
house.
The sun was mostly set now and it wasn’t quite the right time to see the Barns
in their fully glory. Really they should be seen at dawn when the first gold
broke through the thick fog to light up the pastures. But dusk would have to
do.
 
Adam reached over and squeezed Ronan’s knee just as the house came into view.
It still didn’t feel quite the way he’d imagined coming home would feel, but it
was not so terribly lonesome anymore. Ronan parked right over the place where
the ground was still freshly dug, trying not to think about the last time he
was here.
 
They got out and Ronan met Adam’s eyes over the top of the car. And yes, there
was that thread of triumph he’d always imagined. He was still a trespasser in
his own home, but at least Adam was here to see it. He led the way inside.
 
Nothing had changed. It was exactly as he’d left it and somehow that was both
comforting and heartbreaking. They avoided the room where Aurora was. Ronan was
still not ready for that.
He and Adam threaded their way through the house to his room. He paused for a
second at the doorway, handle cool beneath his fingers. And then he opened the
door.
He had forgotten what it looked like, how utterly  his  it all felt. He had
made nearly every odd thing in this room, or been given it by his father. In
this room was a part of himself that he thought might have died, or at least
would never again be seen by another living soul. But here it was, under Adam’s
keen gaze.
But still there was no fear. Adam belonged here.
They toed off their shoes but otherwise got under the covers fully clothed.
Ronan pressed their foreheads together and they breathed the same air. It was a
comfort, having this new, perfect person in this old, perfect place. Ronan
never wanted to leave.
They drifted to sleep and the last thing Ronan saw was Adam’s eyes. And the
last thought he had, looking at them, was:
I’m home .
***** I'm yours *****
Chapter Summary
     Things were still complicated. There was still the matter of money,
     of housing, of nightmares, of secrets. But knowing that Adam was
     invested in this, wanted help, wanted Ronan, made things a little
     easier. The worst had happened, Adam had disappeared, but he was back
     now and now he wanted to be here. And, well actually talking seemed
     to solve a lot of issues Ronan had thought there were.
Chapter Notes
     I'll post the two-part epilogue today, and then we're done! Thank you
     so much for coming on this journey with me, your kudos and comments
     and encouragement has meant the world to me. Thank you all so much.
The next morning, in a cafe his mother always used to take them to, Ronan
glanced over at Adam.
“What’s your last name?” he asked. Ronan knew he should really ask what his
first name was, because for all he knew it wasn’t Adam. But he couldn’t think
about that possibility right now.
“Parrish.” Adam said, carefully not looking up from his pancakes.
“Hmm, okay.” Ronan said, squirrelling it away for another day.
===============================================================================
 
Things were still complicated. There was still the matter of money, of housing,
of nightmares, of secrets. But knowing that Adam was invested in this, wanted
help, wanted Ronan, made things a little easier. The worst had happened, Adam
had disappeared, but he was back now and now he wanted to be here. And, well
actually talking seemed to solve a lot of issues Ronan had thought there were.
 
For instance, when Ronan finally bit out a question about Adam’s pimp Adam just
gave him this confused and vaguely disdainful look.
“I don’t have a- one of those.”
“Oh. So you just, work freelance or whatever?”
Now Adam looked like he wanted to laugh.
“Pretty much.”
“So you don’t have to do this.” Ronan said, relieved. They would find Adam
another job and it’d be fine.
 
Adam’s face closed down again.
“I need the money, Ronan. So yeah, I do have to do this.”
“But you can get a different job to make money.”
“You think that never occurred to me? I already work two jobs on top of school,
but they’re minimum wage and they don’t cover rent. I’m not going to find
another job that pays this well, and has hours this flexible.”
 
There was something hard to swallow about this. It had been easy to imagine
some shadowy group of thugs forcing Adam to do something he didn’t want to do.
But the idea that it was just shitty circumstances and low wages, something as
simple as convenience that kept him coming back was hard to accept.
Ronan hadn’t realized how much he’d unconsciously built himself, and Gansey to
a lesser extent, up as Adam’s great saviors until Adam made it clear that he
didn’t need saving.
 
But then Ronan was relieved. Adam wasn’t in danger, this was his choice. He was
okay. This was a good thing.
So that was a weight off Ronan’s chest. And Adam wasn’t homeless, he had said
something about rent. They could figure this out.
===============================================================================
 
Actually getting to an accord was hard though, and it took a month or so. At
first they just kept doing what they’d done before. Meeting up, having sex. But
now when Ronan paid him there was something unsettled in Adam’s eyes.
Everything else was the same, except at the end of the evening they’d make
plans to meet up sometime during the week, just to hang out or go racing or get
something to eat.
During these times they skirted a strange line between friends hanging out and
two guys going on dates. They kissed but it was chaste and a little awkward, as
though Adam didn’t know what to do when he wasn’t getting paid to do it.
 
There were still strange delineations, things they didn’t talk about. They
didn’t talk about the Barns, they didn’t talk about Adam’s school, or the way
Ronan slept seldom and desperately as if each time he closed his eyes could be
the last. And the definitely didn’t talk about Adam’s past, even though Ronan
wanted to ask. But he knew the look of someone barely pieced together,
mismatched reactions and jagged glances, so Ronan didn’t push.
 
A couple weeks after going to the Barns Adam’s roommates were out of town for a
few days so Ronan came over. They slept on the pull-out couch and it was lumpy
and invariably Adam would kick, or steal the blankets, or push until Ronan
rolled right off the bed. He didn’t mind though, it was just a sign that Adam
was comfortable, unguarded in a way he hadn’t been in all those hotel rooms.
 Adam refused the ride to class in the mornings, only allowed Ronan to pick him
up from the coffeeshop or the garage in the evenings. That Friday, he finished
his homework and slipped into the bathroom. Ronan hadn’t really thought much
about the day beside the fact that Adam didn’t have to go to school tomorrow.
Then Adam came out in his tightest pair of jeans and a shirt that displayed his
delicate collarbones.
 
“I’m going out.” he said. Ronan was a lot of things, but he was not an idiot.
Still, he had to ask.
“Why?”
Adam’s face was obstinate but his hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.
“Because rent is due next week.”
“How short are you?”
“I’m not short.” At Ronan’s look Adam ducked his head and shrugged sharply.
“It’s just right now it’s food or rent and I kind of need both.”
“Great, well I hate grocery shopping. So I can just give you the money and you
can go get food.” Ronan said, voice crisp and daring Adam to disagree. Adam,
clearly, did not take well to being dared.
“Yeah that’s not going to happen.”
“Uh- yeah, pretty sure it is.”  Ronan said, hoping to brazen his way through.
“Ronan, I’m not going to take your fucking money.”
“I think, for once, this wouldn’t actually be considered fucking-money. Unless
you want it to be. If that would make you feel better.”
Adam’s jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists.
“I’m not having this conversation now.”
“So you’d rather go out and fuck other people than just talk about this shit?”
“No,” Adam said, voice like a knife edge, “I’d rather have enough money lying
around so I could be picky about where it came from. Or better yet, just
inherit all my money so I don’t have to do jack shit. But I’m not like you
Ronan, and you don’t get to fucking judge me for it.”
And then he was gone.
Ronan wanted to storm after him. Wanted to yell and fight until Adam shoved him
against the wall and just  explained  what the hell he was thinking. But he was
paralyzed, wondering if this was it, if Adam expected Ronan to be gone by the
time he gets back, if this was some subtle-as-a-brick way of saying they were
done.
 
And maybe a good guy would have made it easy. Would have grabbed his stuff,
left some kind of pathetic note and hoped that Adam forgave him or changed his
mind. But no one had ever accused Ronan of being a good guy. If Adam wanted to
end this, Ronan was going to make him fucking say it.
So he didn’t go anywhere, just sprawled out as if he owned the place and stared
unseeing at the reruns on the shitty little tv as the hours crawled past.
 
When Adam finally got back he looked so tired, eyes drooping and shoulders
slumped. Ronan didn’t want to continue the fight. Instead he turned off the tv
and pulled Adam onto the bed.
Adam was stiff at first, turned his head away. But when Ronan just dug his nose
into the soft sensitive spot behind Adam’s ear he relaxed. They lay like that
for a while, both content in the silence, giving and taking comfort from where
their bodies touched.
 
“I need to shower.” Adam said, pulling away. And Ronan didn’t protest because
he smelled like come and other people’s sweat and because his eyes were still
skittish and faraway.
They didn’t talk about it that night. Or the next morning.
 
In stutters and starts, they reacquainted themselves with each other’s bodies.
Still they didn’t fuck, didn’t even get fully naked but they’d grind against
each other like teenagers until they were gasping and they would sleep curled
up with fingers just barely trailing under the waistbands of boxers. It was a
different kind of intimacy, but Adam seemed more relaxed now, not so filled
with the pretense of confidence.
They both seemed happy to pretend Friday hadn’t happened until the next
Wednesday. They were parked outside Adam’s place, talking before he went up.
“I’ll pick you up on Friday? We can go try out that new Chinese hole in the
wall that Gansey liked.”
“Can’t.” Adam said, not looking at him. “I’m going out.” Those same three words
and once again Ronan wanted to punch something.
“I don’t get it, Adam.” Ronan sneered, angry and hurt and vicious in his pain.
“You can fuck someone for money as long as they don’t give a shit about you?”
“Maybe.” Adam said and it almost sounded like the truth but Ronan didn’t buy
it.
“Bullshit. You don’t want to have sex anymore, fine, whatever. Just fucking say
it.”
“No.” Adam sounded furious and something in Ronan was happy that at least Adam
cared that much. “You know why we haven’t had sex in weeks? Because if I’m
going to fuck you, money is going to have nothing to do with it.” The last bit
came out low and angry and burning. Ronan felt his mouth dry up.
“But you need the money.” he said somewhat thickly. From Adam’s expression,
Adam clearly knew he had the upperhand now.
“Which is why I need to go out on Friday. But this,” he gestured between them,
“is not a transaction.” It made sense, it did and Adam’s conviction was
catching but Ronan couldn’t let go yet.
“But if we’re going to fuck anyway, why can’t I just pay you and then you don’t
have to sleep with anyone else? Win-win, Adam.”
 
“Because,” Adam’s voice was calm and distant, as though he wasn’t entirely
present anymore. “As long as you’re paying me, you’re in control and I just
have to do what you say. And I don’t want to do that anymore.”
Ronan suddenly wasn’t entirely sure he was awake. Because this sounded
suspiciously like a horrific nightmare.
“Did you- did I ever… make you do something you didn’t want to do?”
 
Adam sighed and his shoulders relaxed; his eyes refocused on Ronan’s face.
“No. But you could have. And I knew that. I always knew it. That’s no basis for
a relationship Ronan.”
“Okay.” And then because it was clawing at his gut and it was either speak or
fucking throw up he said, “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Adam sounded confused and a little guarded.
“For a lot of things.”
And he left it at that.
===============================================================================
 
The only thing that still didn’t sit right with Ronan after that was Adam and
Gansey, or more precisely Adam’s avoidance of Gansey. Adam steered them away
from hanging out at the apartment, unless Ronan happened to mention that Gansey
was away. He never said anything outright but it was pretty obvious.
 
And Gansey, when Ronan invited him along to whatever he and Adam were doing
that night, just said he didn’t want to be the third wheel. Which was stupid
because Ronan was pretty sure he’d been the third wheel for practically every
date Gansey had ever gone on in high school.
It would be easy to get them into the same room with just a little careful
maneuvering but Ronan got it, at least a little. The last time Adam had seen
Gansey, they’d fucked and Adam had gotten pissed off, and it had led him
avoiding Ronan, and it was all kind of shitty. So seeing him again was going to
be awkward, maybe Adam even thought Gansey was the kind of dick who’d bring it
up. Of course he  wasn’t , but Adam didn’t know that.
 
They just needed something to soothe the way for that first re-meeting. And
while Ronan personally would have been all for getting them both drunk enough
to forget how awkward it was, Adam didn’t drink and Gansey got a bit fidgety
whenever Ronan was around alcohol. So that was out.
 
Ronan was still trying to figure out how to fix it when he came to pick Adam up
one afternoon from the coffeeshop. When Adam came out, there was a girl with
him, wearing the same barista apron and looking artfully disheveled with her
haphazardly pinned up hair and her beaten up white chucks with sharpie marks on
them. She hugged Adam before starting to walk in the other direction and oh,
that was an idea.
 
Adam got in the car and Ronan sped up to catch up with the girl, rolling down
the window.
“Need a ride?” Ronan asked and Adam was giving him a calculating, wary look.
Ronan was not known for his altruism. But before Adam could say anything the
girl was accepting and getting into the backseat.
“Adam won’t tell me anything about you.” she said, matter of factly.
“Ashamed of me, Parrish.” Ronan asked, cutting Adam a look without turning his
head.
“No, it’s just… complicated.”
“Not that complicated.” Ronan said, and then forcing the words to sound easy,
he addressed the girl in the backseat. “I’m the boyfriend. And you are?”
“Blue. Does the boyfriend have a name?”
“Ronan.” Adam replied, just as Ronan said “Your name is  Blue ?” Perhaps more
derisive than was completely necessary.
“Yup.” she said, popping the ‘p’ and glaring at him in the rearview mirror.
Might as well get to the point.
“You should come with Adam to hang out with my friend Gansey this weekend. I’m
sure you’d like him, you can bond over your ridiculous names.”
Adam twisted to look at him directly. Ronan held his eyes for half a second.
Work with me , he thought.
“Yeah,” Adam said, haltingly, “You should come. After our shift on Saturday.”
“Hmm,” she said, still assessing Ronan in the mirror. “They say you can tell a
lot about someone based on their friends.”
“I’ve never heard anyone say that,” Ronan said, just to be difficult.
“Sure,” Blue said, in a tone that sounded a lot like ‘watch it motherfucker’,
“I’ll come.”
===============================================================================
 
Gansey and Blue got on really well, it turned out. Kind of sickeningly well.
Gansey did his usual, “What do you know about Welsh kings?” but Blue seemed
charmed instead of judgemental.
Adam was tense through the first hour or so but by the time they’d finished
their food and Gansey was calling Blue ‘Jane,’ he had relaxed.
Sure, Gansey not so subtly took every beer out of Ronan’s hands half-drunk. And
Ronan might have been thinking up less flattering nicknames for Blue. But Adam
grinned cockily when he beat them all at Mario Kart and he leaned in when Ronan
pulled him over to kiss that smug grin off his face. Blue and Gansey started
talking about ley lines in the background and Ronan pulled back just enough to
see Adam clearly.
 
See , Ronan said with his eyes,  I have good ideas sometimes .
Adam just cocked an eyebrow like,  I’m pretty sure this was just a fluke . But
he was smiling.
***** set free *****
Chapter Summary
     Finally he settled on something easy, something simple and magical
     and strange. He dreamt up an origami biplane. If you flicked the
     front propellor it would turn (impossible already) and take flight.
     He tested it in the dream and had a hell of a time catching it again.
     But somehow controls made it less magical than if it flew with its
     own internal compass. Anyway, it would do. He held it and wanted it
     and made it real. And then he woke up and it was sitting in his hand,
     paper and willpower and proof.
Chapter Notes
     Warning for this chapter: discussion of age difference.
The first time Ronan had a nightmare at Adam’s house, all he brought back were
claw marks down his back. For him, that was pretty good. It meant he escaped
this time, meant somewhere deep down he didn’t want the night horrors to kill
him.
 
It still made him hyper aware of what could have happened if things had gone
worse. He had to tell Adam. Ronan couldn’t keep putting him in harm’s way
without Adam even being aware of it.
 
But he also couldn’t tell Adam and not Gansey, it was unthinkable to tell one
but not the other.
He had to come at it sideways, in his mind. Not think, straight on, ‘I’m going
to tell them’ because then he’d choke on the pieces of his broken promise to
his father before he even got the words out.
 
Instead he thought around it. Hypothetically, if he were to tell them, how
would he prove it? That was a much easier thing to contemplate. What was so
impossible that no amount of money or technology could fake it?
 
He thought about a light with no battery, that never dimmed, but that would
take a long time to pan out. He walked around the barns and thought about
unreal flowers and toasters with no cords but those didn’t seem impossible
enough .
 
He thought about something he wanted but didn’t have, like a picture of the
three of them when they were younger, in uniform, grinning like they were best
friends. Maggot could be in it too.
But that was stupid, with photoshop the way it was no one could trust a photo.
He thought about something that worked because it had worked in the dream. Like
a crystal ball that showed you your past. Or a mirror that showed you your
future. He wasn’t sure either he or Adam wanted to see that.
 
Finally he settled on something easy, something simple and magical and strange.
He dreamt up an origami biplane. If you flicked the front propellor it would
turn (impossible already) and take flight. He tested it in the dream and had a
hell of a time catching it again. But somehow controls made it less magical
than if it flew with its own internal compass. Anyway, it would do. He held it
and wanted it and made it real. And then he woke up and it was sitting in his
hand, paper and willpower and  proof .
===============================================================================
 
He skirted around the reality as long as he could. But in the end it came down
to Adam and Gansey at the apartment and the little paper plane on his bedside
table up in the loft. Ronan had to do it now, had to tell them and tell them
and tell them until there wasn’t a secret left in his body to poison him.
 
Adam and Gansey were talking about coffee. Gansey had some kind of ridiculous
pretentious order that he believed could only be done properly at his preferred
hole-in-the-wall coffeeshop.
“Yeah, that’s actually just a black and white, Gansey.” Adam had just said. He
continued before Gansey could argue. “I know they call it a ‘blizzard’ but-”
Ronan put a hand on his shoulder and Adam paused for a second to look at him.
“I-” Ronan drew out the sound, turned it into a deep breath, then started
again. “I’ve got something to tell you. Both.” If there was the faintest quaver
in his voice Ronan refused to admit it, even to himself.
 
“Is this you coming out?” Adam asked, clearly trying to break the sudden
tension, “because I think we both already know. That cat’s kinda gotten out of
the bag and into a threesome.”
It worked, Ronan laughed, just a short bark but it was something.
 
“Not quite.” And he just took a moment to look at them both, Adam next to him
and Gansey on the other corner of the sectional. This was the last second he
would live in a world where they didn’t know. He was scared. He was annoyed at
himself for being scared. So he just spit it out. “I can take things out of my
dreams.”
Adam and Gansey glanced at each other and had a brief conversation with their
eyes alone. Ronan both loved and hated that they could already do that.
 
“What does that mean, exactly?” Adam said, tone careful. And Ronan was
expecting this, expecting some measure of disbelief, but it still twisted
itself inside him. He looked over, and Gansey’s careful excitement (as though
his only concern was that it might all be a joke) soothed Ronan again.
 
“If I dream something, I can take it with me, I can make it real. Even if it’s
impossible, as long as it works in the dream it works in real life.”
“Anything?” Gansey asked, not questioning the validity but examining the
specifics. “Could you dream a car?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried. I’ve never brought anything back that big
before, but I think I could, yeah.”
“Do you know how it works?” Adam asked and his eyes were still wary but he was
going along with it, clearly unwilling to play the Straight Man in whatever
kind of joke this was.
“Not really. I know my dad could do it.” And then, because he didn’t want to
see that look for one more second, he went and grabbed the biplane from his
bedside table. “Look.” he said, handing it to Adam to examine.
 
“So, you dreamt this?” Adam asked. “It’s good.” Unsaid was that it was clearly
something that could be made, if not by Ronan than by someone else with a
talent for origami. He passed it to Gansey who held it carefully, as if it
would slip out of existence if pressed too hard for answers.
“It flies.” Ronan said, looking at Adam, “On it’s own. Just spin the
propellor.”
 
Adam held out his hand, not looking away from Ronan for a long moment. Gansey
gave up the plane rather begrudgingly. Adam looked down at the small bit of,
perhaps, magic that sat on his palm. With one finger he gently nudged the
propellor. It spun easily, but then continued to spin, picking up speed without
any further prompting. And then, without a sound, because Ronan hadn’t dreamt
it with noise, it took flight. It flew as though piloted by an invisible hand,
and in the quiet Ronan heard Adam’s sharp breath inward. Gansey, when Ronan
looked at him, was grinning like the world had been made new in front of him,
incandescent with the joy of possibilities.
 
“You marvelous creature.” he whispered and Ronan felt it like a match in the
kindling of his own fears.
“I don’t always do it on purpose.” Ronan said as the fire roared brightly for
the moment.
“Sometimes I bring back…” things, creatures, “nightmares.”
“What kind of nightmares?” Adam asked.
“The kind where things try to kill me.”
 
There was a silence then, as they each contemplated this new world. Ronan,
where he had no secrets. Gansey and Adam, he imagined, where nightmares could
become real.
And then, earnest as only Gansey could be: “What can we do to help?”
The fears were flashpaper and with that they were extinguished. He was filled
with relief, so much so that it choked him. He grit his teeth and met their
eyes until the feeling passed.
 
“I’m not sure. My mother used to wake me slowly, that helped, but the
nightmares weren’t as bad back then. Just, be prepared. Keep something by your
bed; if you hear something go bump in the night don’t turn over and go back to
sleep; that kind of thing.”
 
They both nodded, as though it were easy, or at least reasonable. How could
they, Ronan wondered, knowing they held a viper in their hands, not drop it and
instead choose to take measures not to be bitten? It was baffling but
wonderfully so.
Ronan was empty without his silence to fill him, drained and relieved. The
conversation continued, more questions, some with answers, most without.
They know, they know, they know . It was a different kind of impossible made
real.
===============================================================================
 
In a lot of ways nothing changed. In some ways everything did. Ronan still woke
up with odd trinkets and annoying little puzzles which he knew for a fact
couldn’t be solved. He still had nightmares from which he woke panting and
clutching fistfuls of feathers.
But now, sometimes he could go down and Gansey would still be up. And Ronan
would show him the puzzles and let his anxious insomnia expend itself pouring
over them for a few hours before Ronan finally told him it was hopeless.
Or sometimes, he would jolt awake with his hand already clenched around
something and his first thought would be  no, no what did I do . But it was
Adam, fingers intertwined with his, whispering in his ear, open switchblade in
the other hand, just in case. If waking up was like falling, then this was a
like a trust fall exercise where Adam caught him before he hit the ground.
 
And to a certain extent it seemed the night terrors had fed on Ronan secrecy
and shame because afterwards they were less vicious, more malleable. Still
terrifying, because his body was wired to fear them, but not so dangerous as
they used to be.
 
The spring turned to summer and Adam finished school for the year. He picked up
a job tutoring middle schoolers in Math and Science. They were mostly rich
little assholes used to getting good grades because their parents paid for the
building they were sitting in. But Adam was paid by the tutoring company so he
didn’t have to play nice and Ronan loved hearing stories about Adam’s deadpan
refusal to take their shit.
 
Between the garage, the coffeeshop, the tutoring gig and the occasional Friday
night, Adam didn’t have much more free time than he did during the school year.
But he and Ronan carved out time when they could. Tuesday and Thursday Adam
didn’t have to be anywhere until eleven so they always got breakfast. They had
tried various places before settling on the same hole-in-the-wall diner they’d
been to back in winter when Adam was sick.
 
This morning it was empty except for a girl at the counter with headphones on
and a pair of teenagers asleep in a booth at the back (no doubt hungover).
Ronan was surprisingly not too hungover himself. Yesterday had been the Fourth
and instead of getting shitfaced at Kavinsky’s party like he had the last few
years Ronan had allowed Gansey to drag him and Adam to some party his parents
were throwing. The servers had been handing out drinks all night and Ronan had
drained his while Adam had looked at his own like they would bite him. So, like
the good boyfriend he was, Ronan had drunk them as well. It was enough to get
tipsy but not really truly drunk. He had gotten a bit too aggressive with a few
of the younger WASPs who had looked down their nose at Adam’s suit (borrowed
from Ronan and thus not the best fitted ensemble). But punches had, just
barely, not been thrown so Ronan considered it a win.
 
The waitress came and set down their orders: pancakes for Adam; hashbrowns,
eggs and bacon for Ronan. And coffee for both of them.
When Adam wrapped a long-fingered and lightly freckled hand around the mug
Ronan noticed a bizarre twine and bead bracelet around his wrist.
 
“Has Gansey finally given in and started making friendship bracelets?” Ronan
asked.
“Close, it’s from Blue.”
“But it  is  a friendship bracelet.” Ronan said, not quite a question.
“Slash birthday present, yeah.”
“When was your birthday?”
“The other day.” Adam said, shrugging like it didn’t matter. Ronan wasn’t sure
how he felt about that. Had Adam somehow decided they were not in the stage of
their relationship where they celebrated birthdays? That was stupid.
 
“Tell me you finally turned twenty-one so we can celebrate properly at some
bars I know.” Ronan said.
Adam was in the middle of a rather large bite of pancake and he looked up
before carefully chewing and swallowing.
“Not quite. Gotta wait another three years for that.” Adam said and Ronan
didn’t register what he meant at first, too busy watching the way his eyes
scanned the empty booths around them.
Then something seemed odd about that statement. It took him a second before it
really hit him.
 
“You just turned eighteen.” It certainly wasn’t a question. It just barely
avoided being an accusation.
Adam set his silverware down on the edge of his plate. “Yeah.” he said.
Ronan had always known Adam was younger than him. He had assumed that he was
nineteen or twenty, young but not  criminally  so.
As if he could read Ronan’s mind he said, “The age of consent in D.C. is
sixteen, It’s fine.”
Ronan didn’t think anger was quite the right response in this situation. But
anger was generally his first if not only response so he was trying to figure
out what to say.
“You’re in high school?” he asked and Adam nodded. Part of Ronan felt a bit
sick.
It wasn’t… it wasn’t as though Ronan had known, had purposely been attracted to
Adam or picked him up up because he was young. And part of him believed that
age, while not just a number, didn’t matter as much as a whole bunch of other
shit. But there was still a twinge of  this is fucked up  that Ronan couldn’t
ignore.
 
Adam crossed his arms, meeting his gaze challengingly.
“Is this gonna be a problem?” he asked.
It shouldn’t be. It didn’t change every other thing Ronan knew about Adam,
didn’t change how he acted like an adult, lived on his own and made his own
decisions.
 
“Don’t you think this is something I should have  known ?” And there was the
sticking point. Not even the age, but the barest breath away from lying that
Adam had apparently been this whole time. And Ronan knew all about
nondisclosure. But still, this seemed pointed, deceitful.
But Adam didn’t look like someone caught in a not-quite-lie.
 
“I assumed you knew. Or guessed.” He shrugged and the anger slowly trickled out
Ronan’s toes as he stared at Adam’s face.
Finally he slumped forward, elbows on either side of his plate and head resting
in his hands.
 
“Fuck,” Ronan said, “I’m a fucking cradle robber.”
Adam snorted.
“Unintentional. And anyway, you’re only what, twenty-two?”
“Twenty-four.” Ronan corrected.
“Huh.” Adam said, completely unperturbed. And that more than anything soothed
Ronan’s conscience. If it had bothered Adam, if it had somehow made him feel
powerless or used, then it would have bothered Ronan. But it didn’t seem to
matter to Adam, and so, Ronan supposed, it wouldn’t matter to him either.
===============================================================================
 
Besides breakfast in the mornings, Ronan usually picked Adam up from either the
garage or the coffeeshop in the evenings. And then they stayed the night at one
of their apartments.
It was a Monday and Gansey had taken Blue off for a week in Costa Rica studying
birds or ruins or something like that so Ronan’s place was the obvious choice.
 
They had stopped and picked up dinner on the drive over. But in the freight
elevator on the ride up Adam pulled the bags out of Ronan’s hands and set them
to one side. Then Adam kissed him, pressing closer and closer until Ronan was
crowded up against the back wall of the elevator. By now Ronan knew what this
maneuver meant and he obligingly lifted Adam up so he could wrap his legs
around Ronan’s waist. He leaned back letting the wall take most of their
combined weight and focused on Adam’s hand spanning the base of his skull, and
Adam’s lips soft and insistent on his jaw, and Adam’s smell like engine grease
and summer sweat and his strong, cheap shampoo ( what the fuck did  Alpine Snow
even smell like? ).
 
The elevator shuddered to a stop and Ronan barely even noticed. Adam kissed him
deeply, bit at his lips and sucked for a moment on his tongue, filthy and
heated, before squirming out of his arms, pulling the grate back and stepping
into the apartment. Adam held the grate and stared smugly at Ronan until he had
the presence of mind to roll his eyes and follow.
 
“I’m going to have a shower.” Adam said, walking past Ronan toward the
bathroom. “And you forgot the food in the elevator.”
“Fuck you.” Ronan said, laughing and turning back around to get the abandoned
food. He dropped it in the kitchen before following Adam into the bathroom.
“Or,” he said when he got there. “We could both have a bath.”
 
Adam tried to pretend he was too efficient and sensible to enjoy baths but
Ronan knew that was a fucking lie. After working at the garage he liked to
scrub his hands until the oil stains faded and then let them rest in the water
while the tips of his fingers turned pruny. And Ronan deeply suspected that
Adam enjoyed the utter decadence of having a bathtub big enough for two.
 
Adam looked over and raised an eyebrow.
Ronan gave a sharp grin back, daring him to do anything but exactly what they
both wanted.
“You twisted my arm.” Adam said, shrugging and putting the plug in so the bath
could start to fill.
 
Getting them both undressed took time since they had to stop to kiss after
every article of clothing. By the time they were done the bath was so full they
had to let out a bit of water so it didn’t splash over the sides when they got
it. Ronan sat behind Adam with his arms along the side of the bath while Adam
washed his hands and forearms. He unfortunately cottoned on to the grease smear
he had on his neck that Ronan had been carefully kissing around.
When the room smelled like Gansey’s fancy citrus mint body wash and Adam
finally decided he was clean he let himself relax back against Ronan’s chest,
knees bent and legs spread. His cock was hard and red under the warm, soapy
water. Ronan trailed his hands across and down Adam’s chest, feeling the steady
rise and fall of his breath, combing his fingers through the hair at the base
of Adam’s dick.
Adam let his head fall back onto Ronan’s shoulder as Ronan wrapped one hand
firmly around his cock. The air was thick with steam rising from the bath and
Ronan let his voice go low and heady to match.
“That’s it. Let me take care of you. Love touching you. Love to- yeah,” he said
as Adam rolled his hips up to meet Ronan’s stroke. He was careful and the water
didn’t go over the sides but Ronan honestly didn’t give a shit about the
potential for water damage. He wanted Adam to lose it, wanted him to fuck up
into Ronan’s fist and grind back against Ronan’s dick until they both came and
the floor was a fucking mess. And Ronan told him so, whispered it all in his
ear as he groaned and panted.
Ronan’s free hand came down to nudge at Adam’s hole. Adam hooked one leg up
along the edge of the bath to give him more room. Ronan didn’t push in, just
rubbed teasingly along Adam’s rim with his fingertips.
 
Adam was already close, Ronan could tell. And he could easily have backed off
when Adam’s breath started to hitch, could have teased him along the edge of
pleasure. But he liked the way Adam’s hands were clenched in the water by his
legs, not touching himself, as though he trusted Ronan to take care of him, to
give him what he wanted.
So Ronan rubbed his thumb over the head of Adam’s cock on the upstroke and just
barely pushed into his hole with the other hand and that was all it took. Adam
bucked and came, moaning so loud it echoed off the bathroom walls.
 
He planted both feet under the water again afterwards and rubbed his ass back
against Ronan until Ronan came in a tight, sweet swoop of pleasure. And then
they sat in the cooling water for just a minute longer, feeling everywhere
their bodies touched and all the ways they fit together perfectly when they let
themselves.
 
They let the water out and dried off. Adam gave Ronan a dirty look as he mopped
up the spilled water but Ronan was completely unapologetic.
Then they ate their mostly cold dinner straight out of the containers while
sitting on Ronan’s bed naked.
 
“You know,” Adam said, “I was thinking about the Barns.”
And the name of his home no longer sounded like a dirge. It was sad but not
unfathomably so.
“You can’t go there because of the will, right?”
“Right.” Ronan said, not seeing where this was going but infinitely willing to
humor Adam.
“Why don’t you dream up a new will?”
“What?”
“It says right there in the will,” they had found it last time they were at the
Barns, “the last line, ‘unless a newer document is created’.”
“So I could dream up a new will, dated later, that says I can go to the Barns.”
Ronan said, as the possibilities dawned on him, as the whole world opened up
before his eyes.
“Just one identical signature and it would be indisputable in a court of law.”
Adam sounded pleased and hopeful and the feeling was infectious.
“Adam.” Ronan said, disbelief in his voice yet deep down not surprised at all
by Adam’s brilliance. “Adam.” he said again, and he meant  I think this might
work , he meant  I’ve never felt this happy , he meant  I love you, I love you,
I love you .
And he was pretty sure Adam heard every word.

                                    The End
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