Work Text:
Heavy drops of rain pummeled Ronan Lynch where he stood outside of Boyd’s garage. He felt alone but wasn’t, not by any means. On his leather-clad shoulder, Chainsaw clung close, picking at a thread she’d long since loosened. It was a habit of hers, leaving his clothes worse for wear from her sharp talons and beak, so commonplace now that Ronan barely even noticed when it was happening.
Behind him, the skittering of claws not unlike Chainsaw's, but larger, much larger, reminded Ronan that he hadn’t managed to leave the Barns without unwanted company in tow.
Ronan ignored it. Instead, he allowed himself a moment to consider the weight in his jacket pocket. It felt like what he imagined a black hole might, pulling him in, so all-encompassing that it became all there was.
He sucked in a deep, steadying breath to force his thoughts away from the reason he stopped by, and reached down to curl his fingers around a wet, metal handle. Now or never, Ronan told himself, then he hurtled the garage door open too quickly for him to regret his decision.
Terror stretched across Adam’s face at the sight of him. No, not him. It was the pale nightmare-made-real rearing its head as it took a slow, slithering step towards Adam. Had to be.
“Shoo, you ugly bastard,” Ronan said.
He stepped in out of the rain next, lifting a hand to absently wave off the horrible beast. When it only balked at him, its side-by-side beaks clacking in protest, Ronan tried again. “Go on,” he said, unafraid.
Because it wasn’t just any monster, but his monster, it gave Ronan one last look before taking flight. He watched it float up in the dark, an inkling of pride filling him for a single moment.
“Damn, Ronan, damn,” Adam gasped, ducking his head, “Oh, God. You scared the shit out of me.”
Ronan smirked. It would be a lie to pretend he didn’t get a kick out of this, that there was some pleasure in making Adam lose some of that meticulous control he boasted. He took the time closing out the wind by shutting the janky door then bridged the distance to where Adam was, curled up in a tight ball against cold concrete.
From this angle, he saw the faint discoloring around Adam’s bony, boyish knuckles. It was hard to overlook just how dry the skin there was, especially as the weather continued to cool.
He shoved Adam’s knee with his boot.
“Get up.”
“You asshole,” Adam muttered. He still didn’t lift his head.
“Get up. I wasn’t going to hurt you. I don’t know why you’re pissing yourself.”
Adam uncurled, pushing up to his feet. “There’s more going on in the world than just you, Lynch,” he said.
Ronan glanced around. He saw the tarot cards on the floor and tilted his head to get a closer look, eyes narrowing. “What’s this?”
“Cabeswater.”
It was enough of an answer on its own for Ronan to feel guilty, although he refused to admit even to himself what it was for. “What the fuck is wrong with your face?”
“Why was it with you?” Adam quipped back.
“I was at the Barns. It followed the car.” Ronan shrugged, prowling around the Pontiac to look with disinterest.
He may have loved fast cars, loved the adrenaline and control being behind the wheel of one gave him, but he didn’t care much for the process. Also, this metal junker wasn’t fast, it was safe.
Boring.
Chainsaw jumped down onto the engine block, a little too close for Ronan’s comfort. “Don’t,” he warned, “That’s toxic.”
When Adam didn’t say anything, Ronan continued, “I saw your shitbox in the lot on the way back and I figured, anything to avoid Malory for a few minutes.”
Not a lie. He really didn’t want to go back to Monmouth, but it wasn’t the full truth either.
Ronan reached into his pocket. He tightly gripped the black hole waiting for him there.
“Touching.” Adam didn’t seem very enthused.
“What do you think of the idea of researching Greenmantle’s spiderweb? Possible? Not possible?”
“Anything’s possible.”
“Do it, then, for me,” Ronan said, a little too quickly. He ignored his heart pounding hard against his ribcage, how it made him feel exposed when he knew he was already lacking subtlety.
The disbelief in Adam’s laugh quickly grounded him. “Do it for you!” he said, “Some of us have homework, you know.”
“Homework! What’s the point?”
“Passing grades? Graduation?”
Ronan swore in response. It all felt so stupid, so trite of a thing to worry about everything considered.
“Are you just trying to make me angry?” Adam asked.
He picked up a socket from a worktable near the Pontiac, studying it. It wouldn’t make a very good weapon, too blunted, lacking flair. It was also only a so-so distraction from what was actually on Ronan’s mind. “Aglionby is kind of pointless for people like us.”
“What is ‘people like us’?”
“I’m not going to use it to get some job with a tie—” Ronan paused to mime a hanging motion, as if he was doing it with an imaginary tie. “And you could find a way to make the ley line work for you since you already bargained with it.”
“What is it you see me doing right now?" Adam retorted, unamused by Ronan’s antics. “Where is it we even are?”
Ronan couldn’t help himself. His smirk grew just a little wider. “Insultingly close to that Toyota is where I am.”
“I’m at work,” Adam continued like he hadn’t said anything. “Two hours from now, I’m going to my next job for four hours. If you’re trying to convince me that I don’t need Aglionby after I have killed myself over it for a year, you’re wasting your breath. Be a loser if you want to, but don’t make me a part of it to make yourself feel better.”
The words made Ronan's chest ache more than they should've. He was all too aware whatever moment he’d been hoping for had already passed. Maybe it’d never been there in the first place, maybe it was a little too hopeful of Ronan to think he’d have a shot of freeing himself from the distracting weight in his jacket’s pocket.
Ronan kept his expression cool over the top of the Pontiac. “Well,” he said, “Fuck you, Parrish.”
Adam gave him a withering look. “Do your homework.”
His chance was officially gone.
Ronan took a step back. “Whatever. I’m getting out of here.”
Adam clearly didn’t deem this worthy of a reply. He leaned over to grab something, and Ronan left with Chainsaw before he had a chance to see what it was.
Outside the rain pelted him, droplets cold from the upper atmosphere. Ronan started towards where he’d haphazardly parked the BMW only to stop, mid-step, at the sight of Adam’s lonely-looking Hondayota. It was an ugly, metal beast, clearly not meant long for this world. The door was locked, but that was more of a suggestion than a rule when it came to cars like this.
All Ronan had to do was jerk at the handle a few times and it gave in, allowing him a good look at cheap upholstery barely lit by a feeble interior light.
Ronan reached into his pocket, curled his fingers around the object there. He took a breath and pulled it out, looking at the plastic container for the first time since he dreamt it, then promptly shoved it into his pocket days ago. The memory of Adam’s crackled knuckles lingered, just as it had when Ronan first pulled it from his head.
If he couldn’t give it to Adam face-to-face, this would have to do.
He tipped the container over, eyeing the label sloppily pressed to the bottom that read: manibus.
For your hands.