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When Gansey walks into the kitchen slash laundry room slash bathroom at Monmouth, he’s hoping to find a cold drink. Instead, he finds Ronan Lynch in a skirt.
Gansey pauses just inside the room, concerned that he’s walked in on a private moment. Ronan looks oddly vulnerable with so much of his skin showing: his customary black tank bares his arms, the skirt shows more than half of his long legs, and he’s barefoot. Gansey’s seen Ronan’s bare skin plenty; Ronan isn’t exactly modest, and he seems to prefer to hang out in the apartment in just a pair of boxers and his binder half the time, but still. This feels...different. More intimate.
Ronan doesn’t even look up from his handheld video game when Gansey walks in. The microwave is glowing and humming away obliviously next to him. Gansey goes to the fridge and opens it, trying not to be obvious about the way he can’t stop looking at Ronan.
Ronan doesn’t appear concerned that Gansey’s seeing him dressed this way at all. His shoulders are relaxed, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration at his game, his hip is leaning casually on the washing machine like they’re old friends. Gansey finds a bottle of kiwi sparkling water and takes it from the fridge, mind turning over this new information.
It’s not that Gansey minds seeing Ronan in the skirt. On the contrary; the pleated skirt, which is predominately black with red accents, thin black leather belts, and what looks like criss-crossing chains hanging off the back of it, suits Ronan quite well. And it’s not that Gansey has any opposition to cross dressing or experimentation or anything of the sort.
It’s just that he knows Ronan’s feelings concerning his gender are complex, and Ronan choosing to wear feminine clothing - despite otherwise working so hard to embrace masculinity - throws a six-foot wrench into Gansey’s understanding of Ronan’s gender. Again.
“The others will be here soon,” says Gansey finally, for lack of anything better to say. He doesn’t mean for it to sound like a warning, but maybe Ronan’s forgotten that everyone’s meeting up to go over Cabeswater business this evening, and he’ll want to change before Blue and Adam show.
Ronan grunts in acknowledgement, eyes still on his game. The microwave dings, and he sets the game down on the washer, grabbing a paper plate from the shelf beneath the microwave.
“Is that a kilt?” Gansey asks carefully, unable to stop himself from trying to get a better angle on the situation. Maybe he’s been overthinking this the whole time, and this is actually a weird display of Lynch family patriotism.
Ronan shoots Gansey a look that manages to be both amused and mocking. “No, dummy. It’s a skirt.”
Gansey’s face warms and he unscrews his sparkling water, sipping slowly. Ronan’s busy arranging chicken nuggets on his plate next to a truly heinous amount of ketchup. Gansey leaves him to it, retreating to the main room to try to escape the feeling of awkward helplessness that follows him like a bad smell.
Gansey had spent so long trying to understand Ronan’s identity when they’d first become friends. He’d bought stacks of books from the LGBT section of the Barnes & Noble in Richmond; spent entire nights reading articles and forums and lists of terminology online; he’d even started an email correspondence with one of Helen’s friends from university on the subject.
All of his research had turned out to be pretty futile when it actually came to Ronan. The first time Gansey tried to strike up a conversation with Ronan about transgender identities and cis privilege, Ronan had looked at him like he’d grown a significantly more ugly second head.
Gansey had learned to stop trying so hard and instead to just accept that he’d put his foot in his mouth occasionally when it came to these things, and that what matters is that Ronan seems comfortable with him. But it’s still difficult to know how to navigate the territory sometimes. Like right now.
The sound of quiet, measured footsteps from the metal stairs pulls Gansey from his thoughts, and the door opens to reveal a weary-looking Adam wearing a grease-stained gray shirt and jeans. He walks over to receive the fist bump Gansey offers him. “Long day?” Gansey asks, ignoring the way his heart always constricts when he sees the tension and exhaustion on Adam’s face.
Adam nods, and Gansey offers him the desk chair. “Ronan’s in the other room and Blue should be here soon.”
Adam sits, perching on the edge of the wooden chair like he’s afraid he’ll make it dirty. “Noah?”
“Right here,” says a voice nearby, and Gansey and Adam look over to find that Gansey’s previously empty bed is now occupied by a cross-legged Noah.
“Noah! Good to see you,” Gansey says warmly, and Noah gives him a weak smile and a small wave.
Just then, Ronan emerges from the other room, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Gansey’s insides squirm, and he feels himself tense a bit. He’s not sure whether it’s being confronted with something he wasn’t expecting again or the anticipation of the other boys’ reactions to Ronan’s new article of clothing, but he doesn’t like it. Crossing his arms, Gansey glances to Adam nervously.
Adam’s eyes linger on Ronan and then follow him across the room to where he hops onto the bed next to Noah. A flicker of something Gansey can’t quite place passes over Adam’s face before he looks away.
Ronan’s saying something to Noah in a voice too low for Gansey to hear, and it makes Noah laugh and shove at his shoulder. Ronan grins, casual and unconcerned, and leans back against Gansey’s pillows. Noah doesn’t seem to notice anything different at all, and the idea comes to Gansey that maybe this isn’t the first time Ronan’s worn something like this around Monmouth. Maybe this is just the first time he’s done it in Gansey’s presence. Gansey’s not sure what to do with that information, but it stings a bit.
Adam’s looking down at his hands now, picking grease from his nailbeds. “Can we get started soon? I’ve still got homework to get to.”
"We’re waiting on the shortstack,” Ronan tells him.
“Don’t let her hear you call her that,” Noah says, laughing. “She’ll beat you up for sure.”
“Who am I beating up?” Blue asks, walking in the door in a cloud of rioting colors and textures. Her recently magenta-streaked hair clashes violently with her lime green dress and yellow rainboots.
“I’ll give you three guesses,” Adam replies, dryly.
Blue sheds her bag and sets it on the floor by the bed, glancing over at Ronan and Noah as she does. Her eyes narrow as she sees Ronan, and Gansey feels a sick swoop in his stomach. He never would’ve guessed that Blue would be one of the people he’d have to worry about when it came to this sort of thing; and his breath seems to stick in his throat.
“Seriously, Ronan?” Blue asks, a hand on her cocked hip, eyebrow raised.
Ronan’s body language barely changes, but Gansey knows him well: there’s a subtle shift in his shoulders, like faraway thunder rolling over mountains, and his face closes off like a vault lock sliding into place. “Got a problem, Sargent?” he asks, low and dangerous, and Gansey’s stomach twists more. This is all wrong, this shouldn’t -
“Hot Topic?” Blue asks incredulously. “Do I need to stage an intervention? Have you got some Evanescence CDs stashed beneath a floorboard somewhere in here?” She flops in between Ronan and Noah on the bed, and just like that, the tension is broken. Noah starts to giggle, and Gansey lets out his breath, slowly.
“Fuck off,” Ronan says, but he doesn’t sound angry. He sprawls back against the pillow, throwing an arm over his eyes dramatically. "It’s not from Hot Topic. I got it online.”
"Oh, excuuuse me.” Blue says, knocking her knee against his. “It’s still very early 2000’s of you.”
“You guys know nothing of that time,” Noah says wistfully.
“Well, you can borrow this sometime if you feel like reminiscing,” Ronan offers, gesturing at his skirt and smirking. Noah looks thoughtful. “Anyway, quit trying to ruin my reputation, Sargent. I’ve never even been to a Hot Topic.”
“You haven’t?” Blue asks. “God, that’s something I need to see before I die.”
“We could go to the mall tomorrow,” Ronan tells her. “I bet we could get Gansey to try something on if we promise him a Cinnabun.”
Gansey tries to keep a poker face, but Ronan and Blue both look at him expectantly, and he can’t hold back a smile. “I do like those things,” he says reluctantly. “But I’m not agreeing to anything yet. Can we get down to business? I didn’t call you all here so you could argue about the fashion trends of the turn of the century.”
Blue rolls her eyes and Ronan makes a gesture with his hand that means get on with it. Feeling warmer inside than he has since he got home, Gansey turns to find the book he needs to explain his new theory to the rest of them.
There’s a quiet minute, and then Adam’s voice. “I think it looks nice.” No one responds, but when Gansey turns back around, Ronan looks a little like he’s been hit in the head by a flock of geese, and Adam’s got a blush creeping up into his hair.
Sharing a quick, amused glance with Blue and Noah, Gansey clears his throat, and begins.