Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sitting at his desk, Adam does his best to ignore the fact that there is a feeling of unrest crawling under his skin. His success is limited, and it continues to play on his mind. Adam knows Cabeswater is trying to tell him something, he just doesn’t understand exactly what. In the days following Maura’s return home he’s been hearing it in his deaf ear more and more, leaves rustling in a foreign tongue, and so he sits down with his tarot deck and does reading after reading, but still finds himself confused. He has been putting off scrying because he doesn’t really want to scry alone, given what happened in the cave with Blue and Noah, but enough is enough. Adam wants to get to the bottom of this, so he fills his small sink with the crinkled, well used tinfoil he keeps neatly folded in his almost empty bathroom cupboard, and turns on the tap. Adam stares into the water for what could be seconds or hours, when scrying time feels infinite and untameable, but he doesn’t find the answer he’s looking for. He can feel Cabeswater wants him to do something, but it just keeps reflecting his own face back at him. Adam would think it was a purely normal reflection if not for the fact the face looking back at him from the water looks less pinched and worn than his own harrowed face currently does.

Frustrated, Adam tries to ignore it for a bit, he settles back at his desk to work on his assignments. Normally he’d simply go to Cabeswater itself with Ronan and possibly the others, and ask the source directly what it wants. The problem is Cabeswater is currently out of bounds, because the last time they’d all taken a trip to Cabeswater a few days ago they’d been horrified to realise the third sleeper had been woken, and was there, in Cabeswater, with them.

Gansey, in light of this revelation, had made them all promise not to go to Cabeswater again for now. They’d all been inclined to agree at the time; one, because it made sense to stay away from the last place that awful thing had been sighted, and two, because Gansey had basically pleaded -- his eyes distressed and his face taut -- and none of them wanted to worry him further. Seeing Gansey come undone is such a disconcerting thing for Adam, and he doesn’t like how much it has been happening recently. It makes the ground beneath his feet feel somehow more unsteady. He tries not to think of Cabeswater. He tries not to think of Gansey’s name on the death list. He fails.

Adam knows the Third Sleeper spoke inside Gansey’s head that day. Blue had been able to protect herself, and Cabeswater seemed to have protected Ronan and Adam from the worst of it, but not Gansey. Whatever the third sleeper had said to Gansey that day it had shaken him deeply, but he’d refused to talk about it, brushing it off and wringing his hands before changing the subject.

Both Adam and Blue had been terrified the sleeper would tell Gansey about his name being on the death list but, if it had, Gansey wasn’t letting on. Adam knew only too well how that voice could skulk its way into a person’s mind, almost undetectable from your own thoughts. Adam shudders.

---

Over the next two days, Adam does his best to ignore Cabeswater when he hears it, or feels it.  He attends his classes, his jobs, and then he tries his best to sleep through the nagging sensation of not doing something he needs to. Still, Adam knows what happens if he ignores Cabeswater’s early communications and, when he wakes on Friday morning to see an apparition watching him from across the room, he knows that he needs to do something.

He pulls Ronan aside after Latin. Gansey seems in a hurry to be somewhere, Adam sees him hurrying down the corridor that leads to the Principle’s office.

Adam doesn’t bother with small talk. “I need to go to Cabeswater.”

“I’m fine Parrish, thank you for asking,” Ronan drawls.

Adam rolls his eyes. “Since when did you start caring about social niceties Ronan?”

“Since when did you develop an urge to do stupid ass things like going to Cabeswater alone when we all agreed to stay away?” Ronan shoots back. “Although, after the whole going off on your own to wake the ley line incident, I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

Adam exhales a sigh of frustration. “I don’t have a lot of choices, it wants me to do something and I’ve been trying to ignore it, given the whole Third Sleeper at large situation, but this morning the hallucinations started so-” Adam trails off, looking down at the floor.

“Gansey won’t like it.” Ronan counters.

“I wasn’t planning on telling him.” Adam looks up and holds Ronan’s gaze in a way that conveys and you're not going to either. “Look,  I just figured I should tell someone I’m going, just in case.”

“And when are you planning on taking this trip?” Ronan leans against the wall, adjusting the backpack slung lazily over his shoulder.

“Maybe tomorrow?”  In truth Adam isn’t looking forward to it.

Ronan nods and begins to walk towards their next class.

----

At around 6pm that night, Adam hears a knock at his door. He puts down the sandwich he’s almost finished and opens the door to find Ronan slouched against his door frame.

“Figured you’ve done enough homework by now Parrish, screw tomorrow, let’s go get this Cabeswater crap done now,” he informs Adam.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Adam begins.

Ronan just levels him with a look. “The fuck you’re going on your own, now grab your stuff and meet me in the car.”

Adam makes the decision not to mention that he has a late shift at work tonight, for fear of it leading to another argument over how he doesn’t need to work now, how he should accept help from his friends, how school doesn’t matter now that he has his link to Cabeswater. Adam has heard the words too many times from Ronan’s stubborn mouth and he doesn’t wanted to fight. Besides, this shouldn’t take long, not with Ronan there to actually talk to the trees.

Adam will forever feel a small twinge of jealously that he sacrificed himself to Cabeswater and he still has to rely on the crude methods of tarot and scrying to communicate with it, while Ronan can just openly converse with it. It reminds Adam that he’s only stolen this power, he wasn’t born special like Ronan. Dirty hands made a dirty deal to give him what he has. Cabeswater hisses louder in his ears.

---

They drive out to Cabeswater, and Adam can feel the tugging sensation inside his stomach, inside his veins, getting stronger. He does a quick card reading on his lap, while Ronan taps out a drumbeat as he drives, but it still leaves him confused; the ace of cups, the two of swords, the two of cups.

Ronan parks up the BMW on the edge of the tree line and gets out, wrapping his arms around himself and muttering darkly. The weather they’re experiencing in Henrietta right now certainly isn’t natural. Both Calla and Maura had confirmed this the last time they’d all been sitting round the too small, slightly wonky table in the kitchen of 300 Fox Way. Apparently it was a sign of the third sleeper’s growing strength. It was feeding off the energy of Henrietta and the ley line, effectively charging itself up after such a long sleep. Maura had compared it to a snake’s brumation, saying that it was currently doing the equivalent of sunning itself on the rocks to warm up and get its blood flowing faster. Calla’s eyes had cut to Ronan’s at the mention of snakes, her accompanying smirk never reached her eyes though, her grief was still to raw. The whole of 300 Fox Way seemed shrouded in palpable grief, being inside had left Adam with the sensation of being slowly suffocated. Judging on how violently Ronan had scraped his chair across the floor and stormed out of the house as soon as the meeting was concluded, Adam guessed he’d felt the same.

As soon as they walk into the trees, Ronan makes a pleased sound when suddenly they’re bathed in a pleasant warmth instead of the bitter cold of moments before.

They walk side by side, quietly, through the forest, Adam following that pull inside him, until all of a sudden it just vanishes.

“Guess it must be something here?” Adam’s eyes scan their surroundings, and the two of them begin to search the area for anything they might need to fix or find.

Adam feels lost, because there’s nothing. He doesn’t understand .

Ronan asks the trees what they need, his voice strong and loud in the stillness of the woods. He frowns at their reply and looks at Adam. “They say ‘The answer is inside,’ whatever the hell that means.”

Adam shrugs uselessly.  

Ronan  swears loudly in a steady stream for several minutes, cursing the trees out in English, Latin and their own language. Adam watches, fascinated by just how creative Ronan can still be with his swearing, even after all this time. The puzzle box giving him the addition of another language to use really seems to have inspired him. It’s something almost magical to behold, like a language of its very own, with Ronan as it’s only true native speaker.

Adam thinks it’s as if everyone learns words as a first language and cursing comes second but, with Ronan, somehow it seems the other way around. No other words drip off his tongue or curl out of his mouth as fluently as curses.

Adam is suddenly struck with the image of a tiny Ronan, opening his mouth to say his first word, his parents waiting with baited breath to see what it would be, only for Ronan to smile and exclaim “fuck,” at the pair of them before toddling off. Despite everything, the corner of Adam’s mouth ticks upwards.

Unfortunately Ronan seems to have had enough and turns his attention away from the trees and directs it at Adam dragging him out of his amused thoughts.

“If you just wanted to drag me out here -- alone into the woods -- to do unspeakable things to me Parrish, then full marks for sneakiness, but really, you should have just said.”

Adam folds his arms and glares. “The only thing I’d plan on doing to you on a dark night in an empty forest would be murdering you where Gansey couldn’t catch me.”

Ronan merely rolls his eyes and tries to hide his smirk. “Seriously though Parrish, are you sure you’re not losing it? ‘But the trees were calling to me’.” Ronan’s imitation of Adam’s Henrietta accent is poor, but recognisable.

Adam’s not exactly sure which of his insecurities his face give away in that moment, he curses himself for it -- for not being able to hide them quicker -- as Ronan’s expression softens. “Chill Parrish, It’ll just be Cabeswater jerking us about, testing our loyalty, making sure we jump when it says so, or some shit.”

Adam notices Ronan adding himself into the equation to soften the blow, rather than just saying “Cabeswater is testing your loyalty.” because let’s face it, whatever this is about, it’s all on Adam.

Ronan ambles over to him then, casually brushing his shoulder against Adam’s before walking off and heading back to the car. “Let’s not hang around, yeah?”

Cabeswater might have been been light and warm, but time has spiralled away from them while they’ve been wandering amongst the trees and the night has grown more and more bitterly chilled with every minute that the sun’s been absent.  Ronan turns the heating up high in the BMW as soon as they climb back in, then he’s racing it along the dark road towards home, music blaring out of the speakers and heat blasting out of the vents with equal ferocity as Adam presses his head back against his seat and closes his eyes.

They've been driving for about 10 minutes when the BMW suddenly makes a spluttering sound and the music and heating cut off, the car crawling to a stop.

“Well shit,” Ronan snarls, slamming his palms down on the wheel.

“Pop the hood, I’ll go and look.” Adam informs him tiredly, as he pushes himself out of his seat and crawls out of the car back into the night. He hisses as the cold air hits him in the face, and things go downhill from there.

Adam tries a few things, but none of them make any difference.

Ronan is growing more and more agitated every time Adam calls for him to try the engine again. This never happens, one of the few things Adam is good at is fixing cars, and yet now it seems he can’t even manage that. It doesn't help that Ronan has now moved to stand beside him and is watching him with narrowed eyes.

Adam’s shoulders slump with defeat and he shoves the hood of the BMW closed. “It’s no good, I can’t fix it.” He sighs, leaning against the sleek hood, his grease stained fingers pressing against the hard black metal in frustration for a few seconds, before he forces himself to relax them and fight the anger swirling in his bones. He let’s out a slow breath, let it go.

“Some mechanic you’ve turned out to be Parrish.” Ronan comments, and Adam scowls, his anger flaring again, stronger than before, the ridge between his eyebrows growing even deeper.

“Maybe, if your father had been able to dream a car properly, we wouldn’t be in this situation Lynch. That thing’s a mess inside, I can only do what I can!” Adam pushes himself off the car and strides a few paces away, shoving his hands into his pockets with more force than necessary.

“Fuck you, don’t talk shit about my father.” Ronan grumbles darkly, kicking the dirt venomously.

Adam doesn't reply. The problem is that Adam isn't even angry with Ronan, not really. He is mostly angry at himself, and at life in general. Worst of all, he is humiliated. Ronan is only here because Adam is here, but Adam had been wrong. Foolishly, and somewhat pridefully, Adam had thought he was getting to grips with being Cabeswater’s vessel. Hadn’t Cabeswater protected him; both from the falling tiles and, most importantly of all, from his father?  With the help of Persephone he had honestly thought his communication with Cabeswater had been growing more and more successful. Adam feels a dull ache spread through his ribcage at the thought of her and how she is gone. Gone gone gone, and now I’m alone with this again. Cabeswater suddenly hisses in his deaf ear again, and he feels like smashing something.

Using his deck of cards and scrying in his tiny chipped sink might not have been as elegant as Ronan’s easy spoken communication with the forest, but it had been working, it had. Only now for some reason Cabeswater is either playing with him, or he has failed it by not being able to interpret its communication in an accurate way. Adam was so sure Cabeswater had been telling him it wanted him to see something, to fix something but just what it was he was supposed to be seeing and fixing he had no idea. The only thing he’d felt sure of was that it was a job for him, the Magician, he’d heard the word spoken clearly in amongst the whispered rustles of leaves. Ronan coming along should have only helped, after all surely two Magicians were better than one?

Some magicians they are. Right now they’re just two angry boys standing at the side of an empty road in the middle of nowhere. Adam feels humiliated, like this has only served to show Ronan just what a failure he, Adam Parrish, really is. He should have come alone. He stares at the dirt on the ground, already coated white with frost, and it only serves to remind him where he truly belongs.  Again there is a flurry of sound inside his head and Adam wishes it would just stop.

It is bitterly cold, almost dark, and Adam is going to miss his shift at the factory; something he can ill afford to do right now if he wants to be able to pay to heat his small apartment through this stupid supernatural cold snap. For so long he’d both hated the place and loved it in equal measure, but now he has to admit it almost feels like not quite home, but a home for now at least. He is making good memories there, despite everything. It’s a stop gap to something more that’s bearable for now. It’s his.

Neither Adam nor Ronan speak for a while. Ronan seems to be seething silently over Adam’s dig at his father, and Adam knows they are both mulling over their options.

They can’t call Gansey and Blue, because Gansey and Blue don’t know they are here. Adam sighs deeply. They could call roadside assistance, but that would bring a whole load of questions about just how the BMW works with it, and Ronan is incredibly picky over who he let’s under the hood of his car. Adam rubs at his forehead. They should have taken the Hondayota. They should have left this mission until the morning. Adam should have come alone.

Adam tugs his coat tighter around himself, but it is too thin for the cutting wind funnelling down the stretch of open road, so it offers him little relief.

He doesn’t hear Ronan move, but suddenly the other boy is beside him, silently holding out a scarf. Ronan doesn’t meet Adam’s eyes, instead staring ahead at the tarmac in front of them. A part of Adam wants to be stubborn, to hold onto his anger and let that heat him instead, but the logical part of him knows damn well the scarf will be more effective. He takes it. Ronan doesn’t seem like a scarf person, but then again there is little Ronan hates more than the cold, except the heat.

They are quiet for a while longer, both knowing that it’s best they burn through their frustrations internally before they speak again. It has become an old familiar pattern, and it beats fighting when really they aren’t even angry at each other, but at the situation they have found themselves in.

Eventually Ronan lets out a sharp bark of laughter. "How the fuck is this our lives?" He shakes his head. "We're stuck on the side of the road because the car my father dreamed can't be fixed, on our way home from trying to please a magical forest that apparently can’t make up its mind. Jesus Christ."

Adam feels his lips twitch. He turns his head to look at Ronan, only to find Ronan looking back at him. Their eyes meet for a moment, and they share a sense of kinship that warms Adam more than any scarf ever could. Adam doesn’t reply but he allows himself to knock his shoulder against Ronan’s. Probably one of the most surprising things in his life is this -- the bond that has grown between him and Ronan Lynch -- and, seeing as he spends all his spare time hunting for sleeping Welsh kings or trying to do a forest’s bidding, that is saying something.

Ronan blows out a loud breath that forms a white cloud in the dark air, it curls like smoke from the fire that’s constantly raging inside him, and spirals up into the sky. Adam watches it go as Ronan makes his way back to the car. Adam can see him searching around for something, and ambles his way back over too. Eventually Ronan produces his phone, a look of disdain etched on his sharp features as he hands it to Adam.  

Adam raises a questioning eyebrow, his face reflecting the confusion he feels; hadn’t they effectively ruled out anyone they could have called. “Who exactly am I calling?”

Ronan shrugs, “I figured you’d need to call the factory, seeing as you’re not going to make it back in time.” His voice is disinterested, his stance almost a little too casual as he leans back, his elbows propped on the hood of his car, he idly glances down at his legs and he crosses his left ankle over his right.

Adam takes the phone with a quiet, “Thanks”.  He doesn’t draw attention to the fact that Ronan has clearly memorised his work schedule at some point, because that is dangerous territory he isn’t sure either of them wants to navigate right now.

With each day, there are more and more things falling into that category between the two of them. Sometimes the weight of unspoken words feels so heavy in Adam’s chest that he wonders if he should say something. The problem is, even if he should, he doesn’t know what he’d say.

Adam knows, or at least strongly suspects, that Ronan has feelings for him.

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep or when things are quiet on a night shift, Adam will allow himself to poke at those thoughts. Adam has caught Ronan’s eyes on him more and more frequently, Ronan is barely even being subtle now, but Adam doesn’t know if Ronan only wants him because he’s different now -- less human and more dangerous, a little like Ronan himself -- or if it is a longer burning thing. Whatever it is, it’s doing something complicated to Adam.

On those nights, Adam thinks about Ronan helping him move into St Agnes, Ronan covering his rent without taking any of the credit, Ronan noticing his dry hands and trying to help, Ronan making him that stupid mixtape, Ronan taking him to the Barns, Ronan trusting him with the truth about Matthew, and of course Ronan coming to him for help with Greenmantle. The list is adding up in a way that makes Adam’s mouth a little dry. It’s friendship, but it also feels like more than friendship in a way that Adam can’t put his finger on.

Adam doesn’t even know how he feels about the whole thing; his thoughts are still all jumbled up inside of him, and only when he has unravelled them properly will he be able to tell what he feels.

He needs a little time and space to work things out logically. What do you want, Adam? But their lives allow for little of either of those things, and so they continue on, pretending nothing has changed between them, even when the evidence all around them is screaming to the contrary.

Adam honestly isn't sure how long they can go on like this, he feels like soon the dam is going to burst and he’ll either sink or he’ll swim. Adam refuses to be anything but objective about the situation, logic has never failed him, and that is the way he’ll work through this. He can’t trust anything his body tries to tell him, so he’ll keep ignoring the way he feels when he’s in close proximity to Ronan, or what it does to him when Ronan looks at him from under dark lashes when he thinks Adam’s too busy to notice. It is such a tender thing that Adam doesn’t know what to do with it, other than question whether someone like him is worthy of such a thing. In his ear Cabeswater roars. Adam lifts a hand to his ear and rubs hard at it until it quiets again.

---

While Adam calls his boss and makes his excuses, Ronan gets back in the car. Adam takes a moment after hanging up and then goes to join him.

There is a warm coloured glow coming from the car now, and Adam realises Ronan has switched the roof light on. Beneath it’s gleam Ronan’s face is carved purely from shadows and highlights; the hollows of his cheeks are almost black, a stark contrast to the paleness of his cheekbones which are covered in an orange blush that sweeps along the strong line of his nose and swells over his lips. His eyes are fire. In that moment, Ronan looks like some kind of ferocious monument to a new found god; young, but infinite in power and a furious kind of sharp-edged beauty. Adam’s lungs feel a little short of air, but it’s probably just due to the cold.

“I was freezing my fucking balls off out there.” Ronan complains and, just like like that, the illusion is shattered. He is a boy once more.

Adam snorts out a small laugh. “You don’t like the heat, you don’t like the cold; is there anything that doesn’t offend your sensitive tendencies?”

“Fuck off.” Ronan shoves Adam’s arm and Adam continues laughing.

“We need a plan.” Adam comments once he’s composed himself. “We can’t just sit here all night. Maybe we could call Blue, Calla might let her use the car?"

“I don’t know if she’s allowed car privileges since the Ditley incident,” Ronan muses. “Plus I’m really not in the mood for a full scale lecture from a maggot.”

“Don’t call her that.” Adam objects, though he says it without any real heat, because he knows damn well Ronan doesn’t mean it as an insult any more.

Something has changed between Ronan and Blue since that day in the cave. It’s a subtle shift, but Adam’s notice it. They are both still constantly offensive to each other, but it has the feel of simply going through the motions.

Some days it feels like all of them are merely putting on a show; Blue and Ronan, Adam and Ronan, and Blue and Gansey. It leaves Adam -- someone who’s spent too many years of his life pretending -- tired, but it’s probably the best course of action. It’s certainly the safest course of action.

Adam hates to admit it, but Ronan is right. Blue would rant at them for being irresponsible and for breaking their promise -- not that she wouldn’t be right to, but still -- he’s also not completely sure she wouldn’t tell Gansey. “OK OK, so not Blue, she might be a little...full on about the situation.”

Ronan grins at Adam’s admission.

“I don’t know what you’re grinning about Ronan,” Adam mutters. He glances at his watch. “It’s 9:40 on a Friday night and we’re both still stuck here in the freezing cold with a car that’s not working. Any helpful suggestions you have right now would be welcome.”

Ronan’s face turns serious, for a few minutes while he ponders their options, then he grins again. It is a sharp and dangerous looking thing.

“I’m not sure I like the look of that face.” Adam sighs. That kind of smile normally culminates in adrenaline, laughter and bruising. It’s the kind of smile that twists something in Adam's gut and causes his pulse to ratchet up. No doubt simply a learned response to the thought of what might follow and nothing to do with Ronan himself. When Adam first met Ronan he had been a prey animal for so long that such a smile warned him to flee but now, somehow, it draws him in expectantly, makes him unconsciously lean forward in his seat.

Ronan snorts and keeps grinning.

Adam takes the bait, “Go on then, what is your great plan?” What insane thing am I about to agree to this time, Ronan Lynch?

Ronan twists in his seat to face Adam properly, the leather creaking slightly beneath his jeans. He looks distinctly pleased with himself, Adam notes. “You’re going to look under the hood again and tell me exactly what you think would fix the problem, give me as much detail as possible, then I’m going to dream up whatever part you describe, and when I bring it back you can fit it. Then I’m going to drive us the fuck home.”

Ronan’s triumphant grin falters when he sees Adam’s face tighten. Adam can’t help but remember the last time he’d asked Ronan to dream something up. The dirty feeling from that day begins to crawl its way across his skin. He remembers seeing the dream Ronan’s body broken and convulsing, remembers the way he’d felt when it had finally died on the church floor. Maybe this isn’t something they should do. Maybe the things Adam imagines are always going to be broken damaged things like himself, things Ronan shouldn’t bring to life.

Adam clears his throat, rubs are the resurgent whispering in his deaf ear, and stares out of the side window. “If this is just an excuse for you to take a nap Lynch…” Adam tries to keep his tone casual, he tries to stop picturing it. He tries not to imagine how Ronan must have dragged his dead duplicate from the church -- the church that has always been his safe space -- all alone and then, what? Shoved it in the trunk of his car to take it somewhere to bury? Jesus. Adam shouldn’t have left him that night. If he had stayed he wouldn’t have been home when his father had shown up. Maybe that was his punishment.

Ronan is silent for a moment, and then another. “It won’t happen again, not over something like this.” His voice is uncharacteristically quiet, but the tone is still unreadable, carefully crafted into something flat and emotionless.

Adam chances a glance at Ronan. “What I asked you to do--” he trails off, unable to find the words. They’ve never talked about it. Adam is still afraid Ronan is disgusted by him.  Adam is afraid he broke a part of the something that had been tentatively forming between them that day.

“You were only doing what I asked you to do.” Ronan replies, his voice even, but his eyes don’t meet Adam’s, instead he seems intensely focused on the rip in his black jeans, just above his knee. His pale fingers worry the frayed edges of the threads spilling from the tear.

Adam lets out a shuddery breath. He knows Ronan hates talking about things like this, knows that was probably why he’d deliberately fought with Adam that night in an attempt to get rid of him, but Adam has to say this. “I’m sorry, for what happened I mean.”

“Jesus Parrish, why are we still talking about this?” Ronan finally looks up to meet Adam’s gaze, challenging him to drop it.

“Fine, fine.” Adam raises his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying we don’t have the best track record at this kind of thing.”

“Parrish, I think we can both agree that this is a very different situation, OK?” Ronan rolls his eyes and flops back into his seat.

Adam says nothing, and goes back to staring out of the windshield. The night is dark around them, and Adam wonders how long the little battery powered light in the roof of Ronan’s car will last. Did dream batteries ever run out? Somehow sitting here in the orange glow, while everything around them is nothing but darkness, makes it feel like they’re the only two people in the world.

The sensation of feeling watched drags Adam out of his thoughts. Adam doesn’t raise his head from the headrest, but he rolls it to the side, unsurprised to find Ronan looking at him. His first instinct is to ask ‘what?’ defensively, but he forces the word back down his throat, holding Ronan’s gaze but saying nothing. The moment seems to stretch on, bringing with it a strange sense of gravity, as these moments with Ronan often seem to. Adam supposes it makes sense; Ronan is a boy with an untapped universe inside him, of course he has his own gravitational pull.

"It wasn't your fault Adam." The words are a little gruff and husky, hard formed and forced out. "I tried for too much, I was--" Ronan scrubs his hands over his cropped hair, he doesn’t finish that sentence and the words hang unspoken, leaving Adam to try and fill in the blanks. Ronan exhales deeply, and Adam senses he is trying for words that are simply too hard to find. "I asked for your help and you gave it. It worked, Greenmantle is gone. Now can we please move the fuck along?" Ronan’s face is more open than usual, his blue eyes unguarded and pleading.

Adam swallows, seeing Ronan like this -- seeing the real Ronan -- always knocks the breath out of him somehow. Moments like this feel almost precious and stolen, some people have to work so hard for them and yet Ronan keeps catching him off guard by just giving them freely to him. It makes Adam feel both special and unworthy at the same time. Adam says none of this though, instead he lets out a put upon sigh. “I guess I’ll just drag myself back out there and take another look under the hood then shall I?”

“That’d be swell Parrish. Move it along, yeah? I’d like to not die of hypothermia out here in the middle of nowhere with only your skinny ass for company.” The intensity of Ronan’s gaze lessens, but his eyes remain on Adam as the corner of his mouth curls up into a soft smile.

This is dangerous, and Adam knows it, he should look away. Instead he allows himself to look his fill for the count of three, before rolling his eyes. “I’m pretty sure you could do this just fine without me you know.” He puts his hand on the door handle, gripping it tightly. “You just don’t want to go back out there and get even colder.”

Ronan scoffs. “I could probably muster something up, yeah.” His mouth is a keen-edged curve. “But why freeze my balls off trying to think up an adequate fix when I have my very own mechanic-come-magician right here with me, who can no doubt think me up the perfect thing?” Ronan waves his hand in a nonchalant way. “Only the very best for my car Parrish, you should know that by now.”

Adam isn’t sure if the suddenly flush of warmth he feels is from the casual compliment or from hearing Ronan refer to Adam as his. Either way, he feels just as warm as he had in Cabeswater with the sun shining down on his skin and soothing his aching bones.

Adam knows it should irk him. He knows if Gansey had said the same thing it would have, even now, even given how far they’ve come. These days it wouldn’t have caused a fight but truthfully, if Gansey had said it, the words would have still left a bitter sensation when they hit his ears -- more reflex than anything else -- but so deeply ingrained Adam wasn’t sure he’d ever be rid of it.

He is Adam Parrish and he belongs to no-one but himself, not even Cabeswater, Persephone had taught him that. So why is Ronan different? Why did Adam simply accept Ronan’s help when it came to finding an apartment, and why had he just let it go that Ronan had effectively paid a huge chunk of his rent? He knows why deep down; gifts and charity from people make Adam feel  worthless, a pitiful thing. But when they come from Ronan they could never be construed that way, somehow they feel more like tokens of worship, just like Ronan’s gaze. Adam can’t understand why Ronan treats him like something to treasure, but the fact remains that he does. The fact remains that Adam likes it.

Adam gets out of the car, stumbling into the freezing darkness. He takes his flashlight with him and lifts the BMW’s hood once more. Focus Adam. That trip in your heartbeat is just vanity, it doesn’t mean anything.

Despite his earlier snide remarks, the insides of the BMW really aren’t that different from a real car’s. Unfortunately, the problem seemed to be coming from one of the few areas where Niall Lynch hadn’t quite got things right. After running his hands over various parts and bending low to examine all the slight differences more closely, Adam begins to form an idea of what they need. He gives up when he can’t feel his fingers any more, it seems like the temperature has dropped yet again. He gets back in the car.

Ronan is sitting hunched down in his seat, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. Adam wonders if he should offer Ronan his scarf back, but he can’t quite bring himself to do so. In truth it feels incredible, and Adam is beginning to realise that it is in fact another of Ronan’s dream creations. The fabric isn’t itchy at all, it feels silky soft against his neck despite it looking like wool -- which usually irritates him slightly. The scarf somehow clings to his skin without feeling too restricting, and yet it seems to actually be radiating a soft heat. His fingers traces the fabric idly as he considers it, wondering at it.

“Comfortable in my scarf are you?” Ronan mutters, his eyes look dark and slightly hooded.

Adam smirks, “Oh go dream yourself another one.”

Ronan looks almost pleased. “You noticed it was a dream item?” His eyes glitter in the overhead light, they look a little like they’re full of storm clouds and lightning. Maybe they are, there certainly always seems to be a storm raging just under his skin, itching to get out. Adam thinks that Ronan himself is exactly like an approaching storm a lot of the time; powerful and dangerous, yet breathtaking to watch from a safe vantage point.

Adam smiles softly. “It’s impressive.”

Ronan basically preens for a few seconds, before remembering himself and feigning indifference with a shrug.

Adam reaches into the backpack resting in the footwell between his feet and pulls out a notepad and pen, then he begins to draw, gesturing to Ronan and pointing things out that are of the most importance and must be remembered correctly if this plan is to work.

Ronan, for his part, gives Adam his full attention. He moves to the edge of his seat and leans towards Adam’s shoulder, his eyes intently focused on the pen moving across the page.

Adam doesn’t think about the way he can feel each soft, cool exhale of Ronan’s breath against the side of his neck. The fact his pen skitters across the page at the same time as Ronan sighs is a mere coincidence.

“Well you’re no Picasso,” Ronan drawls, “but that all looks simple enough.”

Adam huffs, “Remember, the diameter of that pipe must be 26mm exactly, OK?”

“Yes Parrish, got it Parrish, three bags full Parrish.” Ronan offers him a mock salute. “Now, if you don’t mind…”  and with that he violently throws himself through the small gap between the front seats, forcing his way swiftly onto the backseat. Once there, he ignores Adam’s noise of disapproval over his lack of grace, and makes himself comfy, tilting his head back against the headrest and spreading his legs out lazily. His eyes already closed.

Adam shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it. He watches Ronan carefully, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his face slackens slightly. Ronan asleep has become a familiar sight to him after so many nights of Ronan staying over at St Agnes, but it still fascinates Adam to observe. It is like seeing Ronan reflected in a mirror that blurs sharp edges. He is, of course, still infinitely Ronan, and the bones of his face are just as angular and unyielding as ever, but when he unclenches his jaw and lets the tension slide from his face he looks significantly less like a weapon and more like a boy.

“Stop staring Parrish, it’s creepy as fuck.”

Adam jumps, caught in the act. He’s glad Ronan’s eyes are still tightly closed so he can’t see the guilty expression on Adam’s face. “Like you can talk,” he retorts.

At that Ronan’s jaw muscles tense again a little, and Adam feels a different kind of guilt. Whatever it is that Ronan feels for him, Adam doesn’t want to make him feel bad about it. It isn’t that he doesn’t like knowing Ronan finds him attractive; in fact it is an almost heady sensation, one Adam tries not to allow himself to dwell on. He’s been having limited success with that lately.

Adam exhales softly and forges forward, “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? You should probably hurry up and do that.”

Ronan’s eyes have opened to slits now, black in the dim light of the back of the car.  He huffs out an annoyed breath, like a child sulking. “I can’t sleep, I’m too fucking cold.”

Adam lets out an exasperated sound, because if Ronan doesn’t sleep they’re going to be stuck here. “Well try harder, it’s only been a few minutes just-” he makes a shooing gesture with his hands that basically implies suck it up.

Grumbling Ronan shifts in his seat, curling into himself and chasing his own body’s warmth. It is more endearing to Adam than it should be.

In this light the shadows from his eyelashes fan over his cheekbones like razors. Adam resolutely turns away and stares out of the windshield. He will not be caught a second time.

A few minutes pass before Adam hears the sound of fabric rustling, followed by “Fuck this.”

Despite himself, Adam feels amusement curl its way through his chest.

“Parrish, get the fuck back here will you?” Ronan’s voice sounds a little wrong, like he’s aiming for dismissive but has just missed his mark. Adam is growing familiar with this Ronan; the one trying so hard to sound casual.

Adam bites at his bottom lip, his muscles coiling slightly. The problem is Adam’s afraid. The problem is Adam’s confused. The problem is Adam wants. He just doesn’t know exactly how or what he wants. This is such a new, confusing thing.

Carefully, and with heavy limbs, Adam climbs through the space between the front seats and sits himself down on the backseat next to Ronan, seating himself with precision; not too far away, but not too close. He raises an eyebrow at Ronan, questioning this development.

Ronan reaches out towards him, and Adam feels himself freeze. Is this it? Is this going to be the moment Ronan decides just having feelings for Adam isn’t enough, is he finally going to act on them? Adam feels his mouth go dry, his tongue feels like sandpaper, his heart hammers against his ribs in a way that’s almost painful. I’ll mess it up. I don’t know how. I am not made for this, just ask Blue. I don’t know how to be loved, I only know how to hurt and be hurt. Cabeswater rustles in his ear, Adam wonders if it's agreeing.

And then Ronan’s fingers close around the scarf Adam is still wearing and tug at it until it comes free. The fabric slides off easily, like and uncurling snake, and wraps itself around Ronan’s hand.

The cold air hits Adam’s neck hard in the sudden absence of heat, making it sting. Neither of them speak, and the atmosphere inside the car seems tense, heavily loaded with things unsaid.

Ronan shuffles a little closer, pressing his shoulder and hip up against Adam’s, then he carefully wraps the scarf first around his own neck, and then back around Adam’s. Adam sneaks a glance out of the corner of his eye in Ronan’s direction and sees Ronan’s face is carefully blank, but his hands give him away as they tremble ever so slightly.

Finally Adam finds his voice, “So I’m your space heater now am I?” He resists the urge to clear his throat in an attempt to make his voice sound more normal, worried that will only draw attention to the slightly gravelly tone it holds, his Henrietta accent making itself known against his will, just like it always does when he’s uncertain or emotional.

Ronan smirks, and Adam feels the other boy’s shoulder release a tenseness Adam hadn’t realised it had been holding. Ronan is nervous. Ronan is just as afraid of this, of him, as he is of Ronan.

“Shut up and give me your body heat,” Ronan growls darkly, and somehow Adam can't help but laugh a little wildly, it flies out of his mouth before he can stop it, startling both of them slightly.

“Just go to sleep and bring me back the damn part Lynch,” Adam retorts. He feels his breath catch in his throat slightly as Ronan slightly leans his head against the side of Adam’s in a way that Adam knows is Ronan asking for permission. Adam leans into the touch, letting Ronan know it's OK, and Ronan allows himself to use Adam’s head as a pillow as he closes his eyes once more.

“This is the oldest trick in the book Lynch, just so you know.” Adam adds softly, almost as an afterthought. He isn't sure quite what made him brave enough to say it, but in the hushed darkness of the car it feels somehow easier to dip his toe into the waters of whatever this is instead of clinging to dry land like usual.

Ronan is quiet and Adam thinks he may well already be asleep, which is probably for the best, but then he mumbles, “worked didn’t it?” His voice is sleep heavy and a little sly, and a sideways glance shows Adam he is smiling.

Adam keeps perfectly still, the scarf tying them together doesn't leave much room for movement, and the last thing he wants to do is stop Ronan from sleeping. Gradually Adam’s heartbeat slows to a more sluggish pace, and he can feel from Ronan’s breathing that he is truly asleep this time.

Adam allows himself to close his eyes, he can feel Ronan’s buzzed hair tickling the shell of his ear, and the side of him that is pressed against Ronan feels warmer than it probably should, logically, almost as warm as his neck under the scarf. Sleep is a tempting thought, if Adam is honest.

Adam would have been at the factory now, hands dirty and body sore. This whole moment feels stolen somehow, a thing that never should have happened, a little like he’s stumbled into an alternate timeline and this is what his life could be. It feels like something to be cupped gently in careful hands and treasured. Adam can’t help but want to keep it, this other life, even if he still isn’t sure he deserves it. If he’d be capable of seeing it through. The silence in the car is broken by the whisper of leaves in his deaf ear, but it’s a soft sound, somehow soothing and encouraging, then it’s quiet again.

Sitting here in the dark, pressed against Ronan’s side he feels safe. Yet, of all the things he has done with Ronan this is without a doubt the most frightening, the most risky and the most dangerous. This time if it goes wrong the bruises and scrapes wouldn’t be on their skin but in their hearts. Scabs like that don't heal cleanly, Adam knows. He also knows it wouldn’t stop Ronan picking at them, worrying them so much that they’d refuse to heal.

It’s a lot to think about, almost too much, but Adam does let himself think it, finally. He doesn’t run from it this time, he just lets him mind run over it all while Ronan sleeps.

Ronan cares for him, of that much Adam is certain. If he is completely honest with himself he knows it’s not just crush or a purely physical thing. Logically he can work it out; Ronan keeps giving him what he needs without asking for anything in return. Ronan doesn’t seem to expect anything back from Adam, he just wants to help Adam in any way he can. To be near him as often as possible.

Love is a weighty word to throw around, and it feels foreign on Adam’s tongue, a word not meant for him.  He thinks that is what love is supposed to be though, at least in part.  

But then his self doubt scornfully reminds him; I am Adam Parrish. I am an unlovable thing.

Only then Adam thinks of Ronan, of Gansey, Blue and Noah and he realises that it’s not as foreign as he thinks. Adam is loved, he’s just blinded himself to it, misinterpreting it as other emotions he’s more familiar with -- such as pity, fear, disappointment and anger. But that’s on him and his past, that’s not on them; they’ve been wrapping him in their love and waiting patiently for him to realise it for a while now, he’s just been slow on the uptake because they’re the first people in the world who’ve actually loved him.

He thinks of Blue helping him fix the ley line, of her being his anchor when he’s needed it, of her worrying about the effect Cabeswater has had on him. That’s what he should have been focusing on instead of replaying her saying, ‘it’s not gonna be you. It’s not going to be you and me’. How foolish of him to think it had to be all or nothing; Blue might not be his true love, but she cares deeply for him, in a different way she still loves him.

He thinks of Gansey and Ronan bursting into that courtroom, desperate to help him get justice. They had both run to his side, afraid he’d hate them for it but there anyway, being exactly what he needed them to be in the exact moment he needed them to be it, and he’d never even had to ask.

He thinks of the way Gansey looks at him; that warmth and devotion -- the same way Ronan looks at Matthew -- Gansey loves him like a brother, and equal, and seeing it like that shifts the perspective on every single fight they’ve ever had. Gansey worries about him, he wants Adam safe for Adam’s sake, nothing more, simply because he loves Adam.

He thinks of Ronan, sharing things with Adam that he’s never even told Gansey. Thinks that that kind of trust can only come from love. It’s a love that’s subtle, hidden in all the little things, and Ronan is so good at drawing attention away from it, but it’s definitely there.

It’s the way Ronan always approaches Adam on his right side, silently mindful of Adam’s deaf ear, but never once drawing attention to it. After it happened -- after my father beat the shit out of me his brain supplies -- the others would, from time to time, forget in the heat of the moment and come up on his left side and strike up conversation, or try to talk to him when he had his right ear pressed against the window when they were all crammed in the Pig. It was understandable, of course it was, but every time he has to ask them to repeat themselves, every time he had to tilt his head to the side, was a stabbing reminder that his own father had done such a thing to him, that even though Adam had gotten out he would always be that broken boy. Plus, it brought with it looks of pity and sadness that Adam struggled to accept. But not Ronan, Ronan committed the fact to memory and, in all this time, has never once slipped. Adam’s told himself that maybe it was just because Ronan had been there, had seen it happen, but there are other things, things his insecurity can’t keep excusing away.

It’s the nights at St Agnes, when Adam is struggling under the weight of everything, and Ronan shows up unannounced with pizzas and tells crude jokes until Adam can’t help but laugh and just forget for a while.

It’s the way Ronan silently notices things. Adam thinks of the jar of manibus sat at home on his makeshift bedside table. Ronan had noticed how chapped and sore Adam’s hands were and had wanted to help. Yet Adam remembers that night at the garage and how Ronan had deliberately picked a fight with him to hide the real purpose of his visit. Ronan doesn’t lie, but he’s very good at drawing your attention away from the truth and the things he doesn’t want you to see. Maybe that was another reason why it has taken Adam so long to realise exactly how much Ronan cares.

They make a grand pair he thinks; one of them afraid to think about what they were feeling and avoiding it, and one of them knowing exactly how he feels and doing everything he can to hide it. But Ronan is hiding it less and less well now, even if he doesn’t realise it.

Finally, Adam thinks, it’s also in the way Adam knows that whatever comes, whatever he needs to do in this quest to keep Gansey safe, Ronan will be at his side while he does it. Just like tonight.

But, even if they love me, I am Adam Parrish; I am a broken thing incapable of love.

Adam has reminded himself of this so many times, and his hands clench into fists in his lap.

And yet.  Adam turns over everything he feels for his friends in his head. His deep affection for Blue and all her quirks, his fierce need to find a way to keep Gansey alive and safe and by his side, the rage he felt on discovering Noah had been murdered so young by someone he trusted, and of course how he felt when he saw the Dream Ronan die before his eyes. Surely that hot, strong, thick emotion flooding through his chest like a wave of heat whenever he thinks of any of them is love? It’s so warm and real, what else can it be?

And so, if he is both loveable and capable of love, what does that change?

Beside him Ronan stirs slightly in his sleep, his fingers curling and uncurling as they prepare to pluck something from his dreams, but Cabeswater whispers in his ears, “Just a little longer Greywaren, he’s almost there,” and, though Ronan doesn’t really understand, stills once more.

Adam turns his head to the side, causing his cheek to press against Ronan’s.  He feels his heart kick up a notch, can hear the sound of it tha-thump tha-thump in his ears. He let’s out a shaky breath.

The truth is, it changes everything and it changes nothing.

The facts are still the facts; if they start something it could -- it probably will -- end badly. But it also changes everything, because before Adam considered it an impossible thing, and now he knows it’s not. It’s something that’s there for the taking if he decides he wants it. This revelation is both terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.

Two years ago, Adam thinks, he would never have believed he’d have found a place at Aglionby with Gansey and Ronan as his best friends. A year ago he believed he would never be free of his father unless he accepted Gansey’s charity, and yet here he was -- living in St Agnes, his father in prison -- and he did it with his friends’ help, not with charity.

Adam scrubs a hand through his hair. He allows himself to look at Ronan, really look, and honestly tell himself what he sees.

His eyes slide down Ronan’s body and linger on his long fingers, soft and graceful, hands that have never had to do a hard day’s work, so unlike Adam’s own. He takes in the ridiculous rips on Ronan’s jeans, a stark comparison to the carefully and invisibly darned trousers Adam is wearing. They are such opposite creatures in so many ways.

But then Adam looks at the well chewed leather bracelets on Ronan’s wrists, covering the scars beneath them, and he thinks of the night horrors that got free from Ronan’s mind and he realises that they are both broken things in their own ways, their minds dark places, shaped by the lives they had before they met each other.

Adam casts his glance further upwards. With his coat and scarf on, Adam can’t see any trace of the tattoo that is such a part of Ronan, but he knows the way it curls around Ronan’s skin well enough, a wild creature in its own right.  He steels himself before carefully turning his head as much as he can and cutting a sideways glance at Ronan’s face. Adam has looked at it an infinite amount of times, but somehow this feels different. He clears his mind and just looks.  From this close up, parts of it are blurry, but that doesn’t matter, Adam knows it well enough. Adam has always thought of Ronan as handsome, that’s never been in doubt. But Adam also thinks of plenty of  people as handsome, that alone isn’t enough.  He also knows he’s attracted to Ronan in a way he isn’t to most of the other men he considers handsome. There have been a few nights where Adam has woken sharply from more intimate dreams involving Ronan. But physical want and baser urges aren’t enough either, not if Ronan really is in love with him. The words sound foreign in his mind is he really in love with me? Is it possible for a creature like him to love a creature like me?

Adam knows how his stomach tied itself in knots over seeing Blue the first time, but that was different again, because he hadn’t known her at all back then, he was in love with the idea. This is so different, because he’s known Ronan for what feels like forever. This isn’t an idea, this is a real and tangible thing, or at least it could be.

Ronan shifts beside him again, and his eyes fly open, the car part gripped tightly in his hands. Ronan is trapped in that state of paralysis that often follows his dreams, Adam’s seen it happen before during the many nights Ronan’s slept on his floor. Carefully Adam unwraps the scarf from around his own neck and places a hand over Ronan’s, because there have been so many nights where he's wanted to -- wanted to offer Ronan some kind of anchor to the waking world, some form of comfort -- but has denied himself the right because he's deemed himself unqualified or unworthy. Not this time. He tries not to think about how Ronan’s hands are cradling something amazing whereas his are stained with oil, or how obvious the dirt under his fingernails looks against Ronan’s pale skin.

Ronan gasps and shudders, his body coming back to life.

“Hey,” Adam all but breathes.

Ronan seems to suddenly become aware of Adam’s hand on his, his eyes widen slightly and he looks so many things at once; confused, hopeful, frightened and so much more. Seeing that much emotion on Ronan Lynch's face is a lot to take in.

Adam quietly takes the part from Ronan. “Guess you’ve done your bit, I’d best go and do mine.”

Ronan still seems a little sleep sluggish and confused, his eyes flitting over Adam’s face, his mouth a little slack. In that moment he almost looks vulnerable. It’s too much.

Adam opens the side door and crawls out, he feels like he’s running away, he wants to go and yet his whole body feels heavy with the urge to stay. He waits until he’s hidden behind the hood before he runs his hands over his face and let’s out a shuddering breath.

It seems to Adam now, that Ronan Lynch has rather crept up on him. Such a slow, gradually evolving thing that Adam, trapped in the false beliefs of his own mind, had missed it starting and only caught on now when it’s almost overwhelming.

He tries to focus on the task at hand but, now he’s allowed his traitorous brain to run free, he can’t seem to stop thinking about everything.

Do I have feelings for Ronan? he asks himself. Yes, I do.

But are they different from the feelings I have for Gansey, Noah and Blue? Because is it just a case of Adam getting confused by the sensation of having people who he cares about and who care about him back? Yes and no, his mind supplies, because above all he’s my friend too, but there’s also something different about what I feel for him. Something more. He makes me want more.

Adam had a taste of this sensation with Blue, at the start. How her touch was something he craved, how holding her hand made him feel like someone, but Adam had ruined it when he’d become consumed with wanting the validation of her lips on his.

Adam needs to be sure this isn’t just a repeat of before. Does he simply want Ronan because he knows Ronan wants him? Is it all about his ego, just like his father would always tell him -- You think too much of yourself by half boy, but you come from dirt and that’s where you’ll always belong, about time you realised you’re no better than us -- his mind is such a confused and twisted place.

Adam puts the part down and braces his hands on the inside of the hood, trying to steady his breathing. It is coming sharply, and he can see it fogging up the cold dark air. He hears the sound of leaves rustling in his ears --soothing this time, there is no question or demand, only comfort-- and he smells the petrichor scent that’s unique to Cabeswater and, for a moment, feels the warmth of the sunshine inside Cabeswater flow down his spine and through his veins, warming him, relaxing his tense muscles. What did you want from me today? Why did you bring me out here? Cabeswater whispers its reply, but Adam left his tarot cards in the car so he finds himself oblivious to whatever it is saying in answer to his questions.

The back door of the BMW opens and is slammed with a flourish. “Parrish, what the fuck are you still doing out here?” Ronan moves to stand beside him. One of Ronan’s eyebrows is raised, but it sinks back down to its rightful location when he looks at Adam properly. “Did I dream it wrong?” Ronan questions, looking down at the part Adam still hasn’t fitted for a moment, then his eyes seem to be scanning Adam’s face with the kind of intensity that suggests he’s trying to read his mind.

Adam hears the unasked question of whether he’s OK in the timbre of Ronan’s voice and sees it in the depth of his eyes. He thinks that, maybe, he’s never known anyone the way he knows Ronan Lynch.  Yet somehow, there is still so much he doesn’t know about him. Adam wants to know more, wants to know it all in a way that chews at his insides.

“It’s fine, it’s great really. I was just-” he doesn’t really know how to finish that sentence, having an existential breakdown over whether or not I’ve fallen for you isn’t really something he wants to say right now.

Ronan nods, but he is still watching Adam carefully. Adam get’s to work, and tries to ignore the fact that he’s pretty sure Ronan’s eyes haven’t left his moving hands once.

When he’s done he sighs quietly in relief and lowers the hood. Ronan wordlessly hands him a rag to wipe his hands on, then, seeming to decide that the act alone seems too nice, tags on a moment too late, “I don’t want you greasing up my interior.”

The both clamber back into the car and hold their breath when Ronan turns the key. Ronan’s grin on hearing the engine roar to life is infectious and Adam finds himself smiling back, albeit a little tiredly.

“We make a pretty good team Parrish.” Ronan’s eyes are on the road ahead and his foot hits the gas with way more enthusiasm than necessary.

Adam lurches in his seat a little at the sudden momentum, and steadies himself with a hand on the door frame. “I guess we do,” he allows and Ronan’s grin turns positively triumphant as he speeds through the night.

Adam closes his eyes and rests his head against the window as they drive. Now the car is fixed, the heaters are working at full force again and he feels positively cosy as the warm air blasts his face. The dial on the dash tells him that outside the temperature has dropped to 29°F, but that feels impossible cocooned in the lazy warmth of his seat.

Ronan still has his music on, but it’s much quieter than earlier, allowing Adam to doze in and out of wakefulness. Ronan doesn’t speak, but every time Adam’s eyelids flutter open he can see the other boy’s finger drumming restlessly against the steering wheel.

---

“Rise and shine Parrish, home shit home.” Ronan’s voice cuts through the quiet that has settled over the car and pulls Adam out of his almost sleep.  He thinks he may have dozed off for a while there.

Adam finds it strange just how companionable these moments, where the two of them spend time together but don’t necessarily talk, have become. Early in their acquaintance, times like this were fraught and strained, because the not talking was always a result of a bitter fight neither of them were willing to back down from. Adam doesn’t know how they got from there to here without him noticing it was happening. It’s a little disorientating. God knows it’s not like they don’t still have fights, but they’re normally short lived and kind of stupid, like they deliberately goad each other into it because it’s safe.

Adam screws up his eyes and blinks a few times. Ronan has pulled into the parking lot at St Agnes and turned off the engine. Adam finds himself hopeful that this means Ronan plans on staying for the night, rather than dropping him off and heading back to Monmouth.

He takes a moment to get himself together, rubbing at his eyes with his hands, and delays getting out of the car. He’s warm and comfortable and honestly he doesn’t really want to walk into a cold empty room all that much right now, particularly if Cabeswater is going to start murmuring to him again, although it seems to have finally fallen silent.

Ronan lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t make make me drag you up there Parrish.”

Adam feels the back of his neck heat a little because, truthfully, he’s beginning to realise he’d probably enjoy that more than he should. He straightens up in his seat. “Fine, I’m a-gettin’,” he mumbles, wincing at the way his Henrietta accent slips out so boldly. Ronan’s face does something complicated, and Adam wonders if he’s silently judging him. He reaches for the door quickly and doesn’t stop to either say goodbye or see of Ronan is going to follow him.

He shuts the door and starts walking then, seconds later, he hears Ronan’s door close, but he doesn’t stop walking. Ronan jogs a couple of paces and falls into step beside him, with what looks like a bag in his hand. Adam still isn’t sure Ronan intends to stay or if he’s just making sure Adam arrives home in once piece and doesn’t fall asleep on the way. The bag makes him hopeful though.

Adam climbs the steps wearily, digging around in his pocket for his keys as he walks, Ronan follows him up silently. Door unlocked, Adam lets himself in, leaving it open for Ronan to follow if he wants.

“Jesus fucking Christ Parrish, it’s colder than a witch’s tit in here.” Ronan hisses in distaste.

Adam pinches the bridge of his nose. “Says the Catholic boy inside the church.”

Ronan snorts, “Oh fuck off, this is an attic above the church, not the church itself.” He rolls his shoulders and shoves his hands into his pockets.

Ronan’s not wrong, the room is freezing, but Adam is worried about not having enough money to pay for his heating bill when it arrives at the end of the month, so he's been trying to use it as little as possible. Adam hadn't exactly been expecting this supernatural cold snap, so he’d turned down a couple of shifts to make more time for homework and Cabeswater stuff, and then foolishly he'd spent money on a textbook that wasn’t technically required reading, but that he knew would aid him in his studies. He shouldn’t have bought it new; that was stupid, vain. All his other things are hand me downs, he knows that’s his price limit, but he’d seen it gleaming in the bookshop -- cover unmarked, pages crisp, sharp and clean -- and just for once, he’d decided to treat himself. He should have known better. Adam shoots the book a withering look. Ronan will probably set fire to it in a minute in search of warmth anyway. Adam regretfully flicks the heating onto the lowest setting, just a few minutes to take the chill off slightly, he'll switch it off again before he gets in bed.

Adam expects Ronan to bid him goodnight and march right on out and back to the nice heated room waiting for him at Monmouth.

However, despite his complaints, Ronan slinks over to his usual spot on the floor and throws himself down, grabbing at the pillow that’s sat on the windowsill -- the pillow he always leaves at Adam’s now -- on his way down. Adam feels a smile curving his lips before he realises it, and he glances down at his feet to hide it from Ronan.

They have a familiar routine at this point, and Adam shrugs out of his coat and falls into it. He heads into his small bathroom and brushes his teeth before putting on the sweats and old t-shirt he keeps in there. He shivers as the cold clothes slide over his skin.

Adam takes a moment to look at himself in the mirror. He feels like after all the revelations of today he should look somehow different, but it’s the same tired, gaunt face staring back at him, the same thin lips pressed together pensively. He feels different though, there is something humming inside him, a knowledge has been awakened and now he’s hyper aware of it, even if he still finds the old voices chiding him and telling him you are unlovable, you are nothing, you are not capable of love, he knows now that they are not to be trusted. They are a little like the voice third sleeper; if he’s not paying attention then it’s easy to believe them to be the truth, but if he focuses and uses logic then he can hear them for the lies they have become.  

When Adam leaves the bathroom Ronan breezes past him like he owns the place, already in a pair of low slung dark sweats and a sweatshirt, meaning Ronan had obviously been planning on staying the night all along. Sometimes his visits are pre-planned and he’ll have a change of clothes in his bag, other times it’s more spontaneous and he’ll either sleep in what he’s wearing or borrow something off Adam.

Adam has never heard anyone clean their teeth as aggressively as Ronan, but then there are a lot of things no-one does as aggressively as Ronan. He grabs a sweatshirt to put over his t-shirt, trying in vain to warm up a bit, then switches the heating back off, climbs onto his mattress and disappears under the covers, curling in on himself.

After a moment he sighs and throws the extra blanket he’s been using for the last few nights on the floor for Ronan. It’s cold, but Adam had many a cold night back in the trailer, when his father drank away the money put aside for heating, or when his father took away his blanket in winter as extra punishment for some small crime, 'it’ll do you good, might toughen you up a bit young'un. No-one likes a sissy'. Adam can make do just fine with one less blanket.  He thinks of the barns, and how there are old wooden chests full of patchwork blankets and woollen blankets stashed all over the property. He wonders if Ronan ever had a cold night, or if Aurora was always right behind him to fuss over him and tuck him up in a nest of blankets. Isn’t that what mothers were supposed to do? Adam wouldn’t know.

Ronan prowls out of the bathroom, flicking off the light and dropping to the floor with a thump. Adam can hear him shuffling about for a bit before he stills and mutters, “Night Parrish, if I die of hypothermia in the night good luck telling Gansey.”

Adam smirks into his pillow. “Night Ronan.”

---

Of course Adam can’t sleep. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to nap on and off in the car, this always happens when he naps. His brain is always tripping over itself and the only way to sleep through it is total exhaustion, now he’s taken the edge of it’s hopeless. That, combined with the fact he’s still cold, means he’s just laying there staring at the ceiling that’s dimly light by the light from a street lamp, making itself known through the flimsy fabric of his gauzy curtains.

Resisting the urge to sigh, he rolls over and looks down at Ronan. Normally Ronan sleeps on his back, haphazardly spread out, half under the blanket half not. Tonight though, he is curled up into a ball like lump, the blanket pulled up to his nose. He is facing Adam’s direction, and Adam can see he is also still awake.

Ronan seems to sense he’s being watched and his narrowed eyes find Adam’s.  Neither of them say anything for a moment, Adam is expecting something dripping with sarcasm over how terrible he is at providing a comfortable environment for his guests, so the lack of complaints leaves him at a bit of a loss.

He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth before he can stop himself. “You look pathetic down there.”

Ronan squints back at him, his mouth starting to curl dangerously, like a wolf’s maw. Adam swiftly continues before something rude is uttered in his direction. “I can’t risk you actually dying on my floor,” he makes the words sound as put upon as he can manage, “just, get in.” He pushes the corners of his covers back to make his invitation clear and slides himself further back on his mattress.

Ronan freezes where he is, and Adam can just see the mask of indifference he always wears slide for a moment, what lies beneath it is so raw that it makes Adam feel intrusive for looking. Adam looks away for a moment, giving them both a bit of time to compose themselves, then Ronan is on his feet, his stance is that or a man bracing himself for the final charge in a battle; hips square, shoulders back, jaw locked. He stands there for a moment, pillow clutched tightly in his left hand and hanging by his side, before striding towards the mattress and climbing under the blankets.

There’s a moment of slightly awkward silence, neither boy knowing exactly what to say suddenly. “Figured if it worked in the car might as well try it now,” Adam manages finally.

Ronan snorts, shuffling about to get comfortable. “Your mattress is lumpy as fuck Parrish.”  He abruptly stops moving when he feels his knee slide against Adam’s and goes back to lying poker straight.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” is all Adam says.  Maybe Adam should have faced the wall, that way he wouldn’t be able to feel Ronan’s breath on his face. Maybe this was a terrible idea in general. Maybe he should have offered Ronan his bed weeks ago rather than making him sleep on the hard wooden floor for all this time. Maybe.

Adam’s bed is small, and both of them sharing is a tight fit, but it does make it significantly warmer. “You feeling less like you’re gonna die now Lynch?”

Ronan raises a lazy hand to flip him off, not bothering to open his eyes and he grunts into his pillow.

They lapse into silence again, but this time it’s once again comfortable. Adam is almost asleep when he hears, “Oldest trick in the book Parrish,” mumbled in his direction.

Adam can’t help the warm feeling that oozes out of his chest and into the rest of his body, his lips tilting upwards slightly. “Worked didn’t it?” he replies, playing along, and echoing back Ronan’s earlier words.

Ronan huffs out a soft sound, probably softer than any noise Adam has ever heard him make.

It’s been a long time since either of them fell asleep with soft smiles on their faces, but they do tonight.

---

Adam is the first to wake. He screws up his face slightly at the shaft of early morning sunlight, that’s way too bright, in his line of vision. On school days he welcomes it as it ensures he never oversleeps -- no matter how exhausted he is -- but on weekends it is distinctly less welcome.

It takes him a moment to realise he’s not alone in bed, and that it’s Ronan laying beside him. Adam worries his bottom lip a little with his teeth as he opens his eyes slowly to the sight before him.

Ronan is still sound asleep, his eyes are closed and his mouth is a little open. The sight of him makes the space inside Adam’s rib cage do something intricate and unfamiliar.

They’ve moved a little closer in their sleep, although Ronan seems to still be pretty close to the edge of the bed, Adam can feel his hand is pressed against Ronan’s chest.

It feels so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Behind Ronan, Adam can see the red numbers on his clock showing 6:45am. No wonder Ronan is still asleep.

Adam can see Ronan’s hand is reached out towards him in the mattress, just short of touching him, but the fingers are curled in on themselves. He wonders if Ronan wanted to touch him. If he reached out and stopped himself before he fell asleep, or if while sleeping he subconsciously reached out for him.

It’s a vain line of thought, but somehow Adam knows that it’s probably true. He looks up at the white ceiling, at the slight damp patch near the window, he looks back down at Ronan’s hand.

Adam knows he could get up now, crawl out of the bed and go and get dressed without even waking Ronan, pretend like nothing happened, like nothing changed. Ronan would never raise the subject.

Adam reaches out for Ronan’s hand.

He carefully opens Ronan’s loose fist and curls their fingers together, determined but afraid. It feels like he can’t get enough air for a moment, and his whole body is tense, his heart is a jackrabbit thumping against his sternum, warning him of approaching danger, run run run. But Adam doesn’t run, instead he relishes the feeling of his palm sliding gently against Ronan’s. It’s a touch he thinks he could get used to, something he wants the chance to get used to. Something he wants for his own.

What do you want Adam? He asks himself. This, I want this - whatever it may be.

Ronan stirs a little beside him, and Adam knows he should probably let go, but he doesn’t. The press of his fingertips against Ronan’s feels like safety and danger, like possibility and hope, and now he’s felt it he refuses to let it out of his grasp.

Ronan makes a noise of dissatisfaction at waking up, then he raises his hands to scrub them over his face. Adam sees the exact moment Ronan realises his hand is in Adam’s. It dawns over his face in waves; a drowsy happiness, confusion, and finally fear. Ronan freezes, their hands tangled in mid air.  

“Oh no,” he whispers, and he sounds totally terrified. He hasn’t stopped staring at the hand entwined with his. Adam realises Ronan has actually started trembling softly, can feel each vibration running into his hand and down his own arm. “Oh fuck no.”

Adam is beginning to seriously regret his decision. He’d thought Ronan would be happy with this development, wasn't it what Ronan had wanted for a while now, wasn’t it what Ronan had hoped for, maybe even dreamed of-

Oh. 

“Hey, hey. Ronan, it’s me. It’s me, the real me.” Adam’s voice is quiet, as if he’s addressing a spooked animal. He runs his thumb carefully over the back of Ronan’s hand. “Just me.”

Ronan doesn’t look convinced but his eyes move from their joined hands to Adam’s face, scrutinising every inch of him as he tries to decide if he’s looking at a dream thing or Adam.

Adam decides he needs to prove it somehow, so he slides his cold bare toes against Ronan’s leg, seeking out the gap between where his sweats end and his socks begin. Ronan always sleeps in ridiculously thick socks when he stays over -- ‘fucking fuck the splinters from your shit floor Parrish, laugh at my socks all you want, I’ve had enough’ -- and Adam curls his toes against skin. Ronan jumps and hisses at the cold touch, but it does the job.

Adam pulls his foot away again, carefully, and offers Ronan an embarrassed half smile, feeling suddenly self conscious. “Sorry, I didn’t think that you’d…” he trails off, “I didn’t think.”

Ronan blinks at him, then raises an eyebrow. “Parrish, you appear to be holding my hand.” His voice is slightly strained.

“So I do,” Adam replies, feigning nonchalance.

Ronan appears to be somewhat at a loss for words, but in his defense he has just woken up, and Adam has somewhat ambushed him. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe he should have actually tried to use his words instead of just grabbing Ronan’s hand like that, but he knows words have never been their strong point.

“I can stop?” he offers, and starts to pull away. Suddenly self doubt is swirling in his gut, making him feel sick. This was stupid, of course Ronan doesn’t really want me. What have I done? His self doubt has a voice an awful lot like his father’s.

Ronan’s fingers clamp down on his almost instantly, “don’t,” is all he rasps out -- it releases something in Adam, washing away his worries -- so Adam strokes his thumb over the back of Ronan’s hand again, because he can, and because he wants Ronan to experience it when he truly knows it’s him doing it.

It feels like a long time before either of them speak, both of them just watching the way their fingers fit together as they touch. Ronan’s eyes are more blinding than any morning sun could ever be as he traces a finger over Adam’s knuckles in a way that can only be described a reverent.

It’s almost too much, to have someone look at him with that much devotion, Adam doesn’t know what to do with it, it makes him feel heady and invincible, but also incredibly unworthy. He likes it nonetheless.

“Why?” Ronan’s voice is quiet, but conflicted. Adam can tell he’s getting ready to fight if necessary, his armour is already growing spikes, ready to attack. He's expecting Adam to hurt him.

It’s not an easy question to answer, and Adam takes some time to find his words, he settles simply on,  “because I wanted to.”

“Adam-” Ronan tightens his grip on Adam’s hand slightly before letting it go. Adam feels the loss almost immediately. “What is this to you? What-” Ronan doesn’t finish. He raises his wrist to his mouth and starts to chew on his leather bands savagely.

Adam can see exactly what is going to happen if he’s not careful, Ronan is going to talk himself out of this simply because he doesn't believe it's possible. Somehow, impossibly, unfathomably, Ronan Lynch doesn't think he's allowed Adam Parrish.  Adam has spent so long asking himself what on earth someone like Ronan could see in him, but he'd never once imagined Ronan might share the same insecurities.

"You know what it is, you feel it too. There’s something there, something more than there should be between just friends.” Adam keeps his voice and posture neutral, calm, but his pulse betrays him.

Hesitantly he reaches out again and his hand flutters helplessly in the air between them, at a loss over exactly how to take the tangled mess of thoughts inside his head and express them in a coherent way. He has to try though.

“It took me a long while to recognise it for what it is.  I’m...I’m not familiar with certain types of feelings, they’re not the sort I’ve been shown in the past, but--” Adam sighs, words failing him, and looks down at his lap.

He freezes when he feels fingertips on his jaw, raising his head gently.

“OK,” Ronan nods, “OK.” And even though neither of them have really said what they want to say, Adam can read every word in Ronan’s eyes, and suspects Ronan can do the same. Ronan’s not going to force him into saying anything he’s not ready for and, although he’s afraid of getting hurt, he’s not going to risk passing up what might be his chance at getting everything he so desperately wants.

“OK,” Adam breathes back softly, a small tight smile on his lips. He's grateful, so grateful, and he leans slightly into Ronan's touch. Ronan exhales in that way of his, only it's a little more shuddery than usual.

Adam doesn’t really know where they go from here. One part of him is acutely daunted at the thought taking any more steps right now, seeing as they’ve managed to come this far without messing it up, and he doesn't want to push his luck. Another more teenage part of him is all hormones, and god in this moment he wants.

He doesn’t realise his eyes have drifted closed until Ronan’s thumb brushes across his bottom lip and they flutter open, and oh, the way Ronan is looking at him makes him shiver slightly. He’s not sure Ronan has ever looked more dangerous or more inviting.

“Parrish,” Ronan breathes, but he doesn’t seem to know where to take the rest of that sentence, so he just let’s his fingers drift away from Adam’s mouth and up his cheekbones. Adam isn’t remotely religious, but the whole experience feels like something holy, transcendent of anything that’s gone before. No-one has ever touched him with this much care. His skin is on fire.

Before he really registers what he’s doing, Adam is leaning forward to close the space between them, to softly press his lips against Ronan’s. He misses his mark slightly, nose brushing against Ronan’s cheek and lips falling across the corner of Ronan’s mouth rather than the center of it, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all.

The fingers on his cheek tense and still, and then Ronan is turning his face slightly so their lips are properly aligned. There’s a moment where Ronan just stays like that, his forehead pressed against Adam’s, their noses touching, their lips a fraction apart. Adam can feel Ronan’s breath ghosting across his lips, warm and unsteady, then Ronan exhales “Adam,” before kissing him back softly.

As kisses go, it’s chaste, but Adam doesn’t care, all he can think is it's happening, this is my first kiss as he brings his hand up to touch a jawline that has probably laid many ships to wreck. There is a feeling clawing it’s way out of his lungs that’s almost too big for Adam’s fragile bones, he wants to wrap himself in it and never let it go even if it tears him apart. He's never felt so alive. He breathes in through his nose and all he can smell is moss, rain and Ronan.

All too soon it's over and Ronan is pulling away, he looks distinctly undone.

"Parrish, are you swooning?" The words are nonchalant but Ronan's voice wavers a little, his lips are twisted up into a ghost of a smile and there is a lingering look of wonder in his eyes, like he's still not sure he's really awake.

Adam laughs then, and it sounds like honey -- warm, rich and full, just like the swelling feeling in his chest. He swats at Ronan's arm, his fingers betraying him and curling in the fabric of Ronan's sweater. He doesn't deny it though, because he thinks he might be, just a little bit.

"Don't feel bad about it, it's the Lynch charm and charisma - you never stood a chance." For a moment Ronan’s face closes down a little. And, because these days Adam speaks Ronan fairly fluently, he hears the bitter undertone to the words, the unspoken insecurity of why would you want me when when I'm such a vicious, charmless creature?

“Guess I didn’t,” Adam murmurs and he rests his head against Ronan’s shoulder. His voice is small when he says, “I’ll probably mess up, it’s what I do.”

Ronan snorts and rolls his eyes even though Adam can’t see him. “Like I won’t? Jesus Parrish, have you met me?”

Adam sighs and closes his eyes. “I think, I think we know each other well enough at this point to cut each other a little slack when it inevitably happens, right?”

“Well we’re somehow here, so our ability to forgive each other for dumb crap must be pretty resilient,” Ronan smirks against Adam’s hair, Adam can feel the way his lips curl, and he chuckles quietly against Ronan’s shoulder.

They don’t kiss again, but Adam stays leaning against Ronan for a while, and Ronan plays absently with one of Adam’s hands, turning it over one way and then the other, running his fingers over the soft sloping rise and fall of his veins and the ridges of his knuckles, mapping them like they’re his roads home.

After a while Ronan let’s go and nudges Adam in the ribs with his elbow. “It’s still fucking freezing in here so,if you won’t let me give you some money for gas, at least let me dream you up a free heater.” Adam opens his mouth to protest both the elbow to the ribs and the idea of Ronan buying him a heater, but Ronan cuts him off. “Before you start martyring yourself, I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for me so I don’t have to freeze when I stay over.”

Adam let’s out a long, drawn out sigh. “Fine,” he drawls, dragging out his vowels. “I wouldn’t want a delicate soul such as yourself to have to suffer from the elements.”

Ronan scowls. “Fuck it, let's go do something irresponsible to celebrate!” He clambers out of the bed and into the bathroom, taking yesterday’s clothes with him. “Up and at em Parrish!”

“What are we celebrating? You being a delicate soul or-” Ronan’s jeans hit him square in the face. Adam supposes he deserved that, but he’s not sorry. He throws them back at Ronan, but Ronan catches them easily before stalking into the bathroom, announcing, “I’ll show you, Parrish. Make that let's do something irresponsible and cold!”

---

A short time later, they’re heading down the stairs and into the parking lot. Ronan heads for the BMW but Adam shakes his head. “Oh no, this time we’re taking mine. I’m still not sure what caused yours to break down last night, but I’m not in the mood for a rerun - I have to be at work in a bit and I’m not missing another shift.”

Ronan sneers at the Hondayota, but begrudgingly throws himself in the passenger seat.

“Where am I going then?” Adam questions, hoping for some clues on exactly what ridiculous terrible idea Ronan has in mind.

“Just start driving and I’ll give you directions as you go.” Ronan’s grin is positively wicked, and he’s almost vibrating with energy beside Adam.

Adam frowns and sighs in a very put upon way, before starting up the car.

Both of them jump as the Murder Squash song starts playing. Adam groans and reaches to turn off the cassette player, but Ronan swats his hand away, although he does turn the volume down a little.

Adam refuses to meet his eye, but a quick glance shows him Ronan is looked ridiculously pleased with himself as he asks, “You listen to it?”

“It’s so annoying it helps to keep me awake on the drive home from my late shifts.” Adam mutters defensively. He feels caught out, exposed, and his face heats. Then he reminds himself that it’s OK now, he’s allowed to listen to Ronan’s mixtape, just like he’s allowed to touch Ronan. He can have this, if he lets himself.

“And the other side?” Ronan’s voice is quiet, and Adam hears the vulnerability seeping through it.

Adam’s face softens. “Yeah, I listen to the other side too.” His fingers tighten on the wheel a little, before he pushes himself to go on, “sometimes, if I can’t sleep, I come down to the car and just listen for a bit, y’know? It...it helps.”

Ronan breathes in sharply, “that’s good, I mean, yeah glad you like it.” His voice is raw for a moment then he’s barking out, “Left Parrish, take that left! Jesus you nearly missed it!”

“Missed it?” Adam is incredulous as he swerves the wheel hard and just makes the turn. “You never told me to go left in the first place!”

“This is why we should have taken my car,” Ronan bites out.

Adam shakes his head, and has to bite his lip to stop the burst of laughter threatening to spill out of him.

---

The rest of the short drive continues in a similar fashion, Ronan yelling out directions way later than Adam considers properly helpful, Adam complaining, Ronan bitching back. It’s comfortingly familiar, despite the lines they crossed this morning, and it makes Adam feel more confident that this could work, that it isn’t going to change everything, only make what they already have better.

Adam comes to a stop as instructed and tries to work out where they are, and what Ronan’s about to talk him into. He hopes it won’t leave too many bruises.

“Come along Parrish.” Ronan is already getting out. Adam eyes his battered watch. He has roughly another two and a half hours, then he needs to be at work.

Ronan makes his way along the street they’re parked up on. The houses here are massive, hemorrhaging money out of massive iron gates and white brick gateposts, all adorned with sleek metal intercoms. The gardens look like something out of a magazine, not a plant out of place. Adam wonders if the grass is even real, it’s cut in such a uniform way.

“Ronan,” he hisses. “Where the hell are we going?” He hurries after the other boy nervously. This is the kind of street that makes Adam feel completely out of place, like an imposter on the face of the earth. He could never belong here, could never throw away excesses of money on such gauche displays of wealth.  He squints at a 4 tiered fountain topped with cherubs behind one set of gates.

Ronan slithers his way down the street, disappearing down a small pathway between gardens. Adam glances around quickly before following him. His stomach is full of apprehension, but also that flutter of excitement that always comes from Ronan’s terrible ideas.

Ronan casually glances over his shoulder before grabbing the branch of an overhanging tree and hauling himself up it. He looks down at Adam and says, “come on.” before disappearing over the tall fence into the garden of one of the houses.

“Ronan!” Adam’s voice is a loud, annoyed whisper. “Goddamnit.”  Sighing Adam rubs the palms of his hands on his trousers before scrambling his own way up the tree, slipping slightly before he’s up and able to look down into the garden Ronan disappeared into.

Ronan’s mouth cuts his face open with a grin. “Well there you are Parrish, took you long enough.”

Adam’s brow furrows, and he purses his lips. “This, for the record, is trespassing and a terrible idea.” Adam drops from the tree into the garden anyway.

“Relax Parrish, no-one is going to see us with fences that high around the place, and no-one’s home.”

Adam is not convinced. “How can you be sure of that?”

Ronan rolls his eyes. “You heard Carruthers bleating on in Latin about how unfair it is that his parents have gone to the Med without him right?”

Adam groans. “This is Tad’s house?” He puts his hands over his face.

“Not until he inherits it. For now it’s Aglionby dorms for him and this for his parents.”

Adam doesn’t look impressed at Ronan’s humor. “Ronan, this is…” he struggles to find a word to convey how ridiculous and stupid it is to trespass on the property of someone they know.

Ronan narrows his eyes dangerously. “Genius is the word you're looking for.”

Adam moves to stand beside him. “Why are we even here?”

Ronan puts one arm around Adam’s shoulders and gestures across the garden to the blue tiled outdoor pool with his free hand. Adam knows he’s supposed to be mad, he is kind of mad, but he still leans into the warmth of Ronan’s touch. The arm around his neck is more thrilling than any dumb activity Ronan can think up.

“No.” Adam’s lip curls in distaste as he eyes the lavishly tiled, fancy looking outdoor pool. “Absolutely not.”

Ronan’s perfect teeth gleam ominously as they catch the light. “Afraid of getting cold Parrish?”

And this, Adam supposes, is what he gets for relishing teasing Ronan earlier. “It’s frozen over.” Adam knows he might be stating the obvious, but it still feels worth saying.

Ronan just shrugs like ice is no obstacle for him. Then he starts removing his clothes.

Adam isn’t sure if he’s supposed to watch or not, as the pile of clothing beside Ronan starts to grow; jacket, sweatshirt, t-shirt, vest. He finds his eyes tracing the dark lines of Ronan’s tattoo. Ronan isn’t aware, he’s too busy struggling out of his tight black jeans and socks, so Adam looks his fill. He follows the black celtic looking curves from Ronan’s shoulder blades, down and down until they wrap and grab at his ribs, as if they can’t decide if they’re trying to tear him apart or hold him together. From here Ronan’s skin looks pale and soft beneath the harsh artistry, despite the sharp lines his bones cut. It makes Adam want to touch, and he feels a heat build in the pit of his stomach, different to the feeling in his chest from earlier, but no less like honey.

Ronan turns to him then and yells, “Excelsior!” in a terrible imitation of Gansey, before running towards the pool and making a cannonball jump.

Adam waits for the crack and splash.

There is no crack and splash. The ice holds and Ronan swears loudly and profusely as he slams into it and skids across the surface.

Adam’s jaw drops slightly. “Ronan,” he groans and rushes towards the edge of the pool, “you OK?”

Ronan looks positively mutinous. “Fucking ice, it had one fucking job,” he snarls.

It has to have hurt, Adam can see the red, angry patch of skin on Ronan’s thigh, peaking out from beneath his boxers, but, watching Ronan attempting to drag himself across the surface and slipping again, Adam can’t hold it in any longer, he laughs. The laughter bursts out of his chest like an explosion, so fast and loud it almost hurts his throat.

“Parrish,” Ronan’s voice is acid, the threat to it hangs heavy, but one look at him dragging himself across the ice like a seal and Adam’s laughing even harder, clutching at his sides, looking at Ronan, clutching at his sides harder.

He can’t stop, is the thing.  His whole body is vibrating with it, so much so he has to sit down, and still the laughter comes. All he has to do is glance at Ronan slowly but determinedly sliding his way across the ice towards him, looking like dynamite with a lit fuse, and more bubbles out of him.

Wildly, Adam realises he has never laughed like this, not in 18 years of his life. His fingers curl in the grass, tugging at it a little as the aching happiness floods through his muscles and over his skin.

Ronan reaches the side of the pool and hauls himself out, he is shivering, and Adam’s not entirely sure if it’s with rage, cold or a mixture of both.

Adam holds his hands up as a gesture of peace, “Ronan, now just--” he doesn’t get to finish that sentence before Ronan launches himself on Adam, shoving his cold face in the crook of Adam’s neck and getting his freezing cold palms up under all the layers Adam is wearing and pressing them hard against Adam’s ribs. Adam gasps loudly, all the muscles beneath Ronan’s hand tensing and coiling. The cold is shocking, but so is the feel of Ronan’s fingertips pressing into his skin. No-one has ever touched him like this. He knows Ronan would never have dared touch him like this yesterday. That thought causes a secondary shiver to ripple through him.

Ronan pulls back a little, but doesn’t remove his hands straight away. Adam’s not sure just how mad at him Ronan is, but when Ronan has pulled back enough to meet his gaze Adam is shocked to see his lips pulled back in a fierce smile. Ronan’s hands retreat and suddenly one is cupping adam’s cheek and the other running through his hair. “I hate you, you are a terrible person, and I will have my revenge.” Ronan says, but his hands and his eyes scream I love you I love you I love you and Adam starts laughing again.

Ronan, now limping slightly, grabs his clothes and dresses as quickly as possible, he looks freezing, his pale skin is taking on a slightly blue hue and he's definitely shivering. Adam knows that all of this was for his benefit in the first place. Joking as Adam’s teasing had been, this was Ronan wanting to prove something to Adam, and all he’d gotten for it was the beginning of a lot of bruises.

The thing about Ronan, Adam has learned, is that he only feigns indifference. In reality he cares what those close think about him, he just pretends he doesn't as a form of armour. He's good at it too, so good it took Adam a while to believe that Ronan cared enough about anyone to care about what they thought about him. Adam remembers when he used to seriously question Gansey’s choice in friends, unable to believe there was more to Ronan than a cruel coldness aimed at the world. In those early days Adam thought he knew exactly who Ronan Lynch was, and he’d been terribly wrong.

Adam waits until Ronan’s dressed again and get’s to his feet. Feeling bolder than he’s used to, he wraps his arms around Ronan’s waist. “Hey,” Adam exhales. His cheeks actually ache a little from so much laughing, he marvels at the sensation.

“Hey yourself.” Ronan looks a little wary, but his hands side up Adam’s arms and find his shoulders none the less.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Adam tells him, and he does.

It’s different this time, it still makes something unfurl inside Adam that feels too big for the cage of his hollow body, but it’s less of a declaration and more of a confirmation, a celebration. Ronan’s hands squeeze his shoulders before one slides up the side of his neck, and then there’s an ice cold thumb rubbing circles at the base of his ear and making his blood sing. Adam has been touch starved for so long that every press of fingertips feels like a hallelujah.

Ronan gets a hand in Adam’s hair and deepens the kiss, his lips are soft, softer they have any right to be when they frame such a barbed smile and sharp set of teeth. Adam fists the back of Ronan’s coat, frustrated that he’s hidden away when all Adam wants right now is to touch every sharp surface, even if he cuts himself open in the process. It would be worth it.

Ronan’s hand leaves Adam’s hair and trails down to his jaw, tilting his head just slightly to improve the angle and then Adam feels Ronan’s tongue running lightly against the seam of his lips softly for a moment, a little unsure, before it’s just lips on lips again.

Adam’s fingers are cold, white knuckled when they make their way up to curl at the nape of Ronan’s neck. His index finger reaches out and brushes over the stubbled hair on Ronan’s scalp curiously, and Ronan sighs into his mouth.

Adam can feel his pulse everywhere Ronan is touching him, strong and fast and alive. He feels the pulse of the ley line inside him flutter and then synchronise with his own and it feels a little what he thinks flying is supposed to feel like, rather than the nervous experience it usually is for him. This isn’t the crude, clunky type of flying that is born from the mercy of someone else’s invention, this is flying with wings of your own, like a bird soaring over the mountains, totally free to go where it pleases.

Deep inside he feels Cabeswater’s presence fill him, smells the familiar scents of moss and leaves and magic, feels it thick on his tongue. It brings with it the phantom touch of summer sunshine on his skin, for just a moment, bathing him in it. Cabeswater is happy, he can feel it. Cabeswater is happy because he is happy. This is what you wanted, he realises, this is what you were trying to get me to see yesterday. He hears whispering in his deaf ear and he knows he’s right.

Cabeswater wants a vessel that’s whole not broken, a vessel that’s happy not fragile. It wanted Adam to realise just who he's become; how he loves and is loved. Cabeswater is pleased its magicians are strong and united.

He breaks away and draws in a deep breath, Cabeswater is gone and it’s just Ronan filling his lungs, though their scents are so similar.

Adam looks at Ronan from under his eyelashes, wondering if Ronan felt it too, but Ronan’s eyes are still closed, his lips still parted and it strikes Adam that he’s never seen him look this young before.

Ronan finally exhales loudly and opens his eyes. He looks down at his feet and then a wry smile twists across his kiss swollen lips. “Magician,” he grins, his voice quiet and fond.

Adam blinks, confused. He follows Ronan’s gaze, looking down at their feet. In the space between their feet are the finest vines he’s ever seen, dark green leaves with dainty blue flowers adorning them. They seem to sprout from the ground beneath Adam’s shoes and wind across the manicured grass to Ronan’s boots, where they’ve started to climb the sides and tangle themselves around his laces, as if he’s anchoring himself to Ronan.

“Cabeswater,” Adam sighs, a little embarrassed. But he knows he doesn’t really need to be. Him and Ronan are similar creatures now, both of them human but also other. None of the others truly understand that feeling like Ronan does, the boy who is the Greywaren, the boy who is the child of a dream. “I think it’s pleased with this development.”

Ronan looks away from the vines and back at Adam. “And are you?” He shifts his foot slightly and the vines relent their grasp, fine branches snapping, some slipping down his shoe to the ground, the others remaining limp and tangled in his laces. Seeing them break makes Adam feel sad, even though he doesn’t know why. “This isn’t some weird Cabeswater thing right?” Ronan asks, his voice is measured, careful. His eyes are closing off.

Adam takes one of Ronan’s hands into his, carefully. “I am.” He looks Ronan in the eye and answers him honestly, because this is Ronan, and he can tell Ronan stuff like this, just as Ronan can do the same to him. “Sometimes, when my emotions are strong, I think they can bleed into Cabeswater. I- Something happened before the trial, my Dad showed up at the flat and he was going to hit me, only he couldn’t. I thought of Cabeswater, and the next thing I knew he was recoiling and his hand was bleeding from thorns.”

Ronan clenches the hand Adam’s not holding, his jaw locking with fury. “He came to St Agnes?”

“Hey, it doesn’t matter now. It’s over.” Adam pushes on, not wanting anything about his father to sully today, to sully them. “Cabeswater doesn’t control my emotions but it shares them, and I think it is happy because of me, because I am.” Ronan squeezes his hand fiercely. Adam continues, “I think it’s been trying to show me for a while now, to help me see that the thoughts I had about myself, the things I grew up believing, weren’t true. Don't take this the wrong way, but it wasn't really about you, the fact that my realisations lead to us is just a nice bonus as far as Cabeswater's concerned. We know it protects me physically, I guess it was also trying to do the same emotionally, though I’m not exactly sure why yet.” He pauses and chews on his bottom lip, because he's been thinking about this a lot, wondering exactly what Cabeswater has planned for him. “I guess it makes sense that it wants its vessel to be the least fucked up version of itself.” Adam smiles a tightly, slightly wry smile. “Even sentient forests don’t like sharing a head space with a broken thing.”

He's suspects there's more to it still, but for now he'll keep that to himself.

Ronan opens his mouth to say something -- the ghost of a memory of Cabeswater saying “he’s almost there,” floats through his mind -- but at the same time the back door of the ridiculously over the top house behind them opens and a woman calls out, “Who are you? What are you doing on this lawn? I’m calling 911!” without pausing to drawing breath.

“Time to go Parrish!” Ronan grabs Adam’s arm and drags him towards the fence.

“You said the house was empty!” Adam hisses, the tenderness of the moment before forgotten. “Ronan, you said it was empty!”

Ronan shoves Adam along faster. “May have forgotten to take the housekeeper into consideration,” he amends, a shark’s grin on his face, his eyes wild and alive.

“I hate you,” Adam mutters darkly as he scrambles ineffectively at the tall wooden fence. They’re not going to make it, they’re going to be trapped here and the very angry lady is going to call 911 and, if they get arrested for trespassing, Aglionby will be a thing of the past and-

“Up you go.” Ronan urges, cupping his hands together and bending his legs slightly to give Adam a boost up. Adam puts his foot in Ronan’s hands, gripping his shoulders to balance himself and then he’s being shoved upwards to where he can grab the top of the fence and a branch of the tree they used to get over in the first place. Adam climbs into the branches hurriedly, relief flooding him, only then does he realise that if he’s up here there’s no-one down there to give Ronan a boost.

Ronan gives him a look, “Just go Parrish,” he urges. “I’ll be right behind you. I can take care of myself.”

“The hell you can,” Adam snorts. He lays himself along a thick branch and leans his arms down towards Ronan. “Grab my hands and get up here dammit.”

Ronan’s face does something intricate, then a lightning bolt of a grin forks it’s way across his features, and Adam can see how pleased he actually is that Adam won’t ditch him.

The woman never leaves the doorway, she is just waving a cellphone at them. Adam pulls as Ronan scrambles, and in seconds they’re both in the tree. Ronan springs down and onto the little path below, practically vibrating, Adam follows a little more carefully. The last thing he wants to do is twist his ankle by landing to heavy. He can’t beg off work for the second day running.

Once they’re both back in the Hondayota and safely away Adam turns on him. “This was a terrible idea, I hope you realise that.”

Ronan just shrugs and fiddles with the car’s ancient heating vents with distaste before blowing on his hands to warm them. “Look, it’s not my fault she was there.”

“Did you even think through how we’d get out once we had gotten in?” Adam continues.

“Do these pieces of shit even work?” Ronan bitches, slamming a hand against the offending vents.

Adam clears his throat and waits.

“The side gate.” Ronan replies, voice a little petulant. “I’ve been there before you know, with Gansey. We went to a party there once, before you came along.”

Adam tries to imagine Ronan and Gansey partying with Tad, and fails. He doesn’t want to truthfully, it threatens to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

Ronan ducks down then, reaching into his footwell to do something. Adam casts a sideways glance at him while driving and his hands tighten on the steering wheel as he watches Ronan fail at subtly picking a piece of vine from his boot lace and slipping it into his pocket. Adam tells himself he’s supposed to be annoyed at Ronan right now and that he will not smile. his damn mouth betrays him though. He keeps his eyes on the road so as not to drawn Ronan’s attention to it.

Ronan pops the mixtape out of the player and flips it over, and sticks it back in, then presses play on Parrish's Hondayota Alone Time. The music seems to soothe them both.

“My dad used to do it.” Ronan says suddenly, and Adam has no idea what he’s talking about, he’s about to ask when Ronan continues. “In the winter, on the days when the ponds at The Barns were frozen over, but the sun was bright and the sky was blue, sometimes he’d strip down, run at the water and just plunge through the ice. Mom used to think he was crazy, but he told me once there was no better way for a dreamer to be sure he was awake. I was going to take you to The Barns this morning, but I figured there wasn’t time, so Carruthers’ pool had to do.”

“If you're ever in doubt again, I can soon pinch you. It might be safer.” Adam replies dryly, but he tucks the information Ronan’s just shared away safely in his mind, to take out and treasure again when he needs it. When the voices of his past are loud and it’s hard to believe this ruthlessly handsome boy cares about him, Adam will carefully take this bit of information out and remind himself how little of his past Ronan shares with anyone, and just what it means that he shared it with Adam. These are the ways Adam will learn to let the love of those around him in.

---

The drive back to St Agnes is pretty quiet, Adam suspects both of them are rather lost in their thoughts; individually mulling over the events of the last few hours and trying to rearrange their old perspectives following the subtle but definite shift of their relationship.

Adam’s struggling a little, if he's honest. Letting someone in like this frightens him. I have been a one man army for so long. But no, that's another untrue thought, because it's been him and Gansey and Ronan for a while, and then it had become him, Gansey, Ronan, Noah and Blue. And now this, him and Ronan. And really, even that isn't new, Adam thinks, because it's been becoming him and Ronan more and more over the last few months. The kissing might be new but this -- one on one time with Ronan, doing stupid things with Ronan, quiet nights together at St Agnes with Ronan -- is something that's been growing roots and leaves for a while, it's just finally bloomed.

---

It's a little awkward when he drops Ronan off in the car park, neither of them quite sure how to be around each other now. Ronan just sits in the passenger seat of the Hondayota like there's a war raging within him. His fists open, clench, open again, and Adam lays a hand over the one closest to him.

“I don’t know what I’m allowed to do, I don’t know how I’m supposed to be around you now.”  Ronan forces the words out quietly, through clenched teeth, like a confession that’s supposed to be whispered carefully in the dark of the night in some sacred place -- where it’s expected of you to make such confessions -- rather than forced out of a ferocious boy in the harsh white light of mid morning, in a shity car.

Adam grips the hand beneath his and shrugs, “I think we should just be ourselves.” It sounds stupid to his own ears, and he’s not surprised when Ronan rolls his eyes a little. “But if you were thinking you’d like to kiss me, I would be OK with that.”

Ronan shakes his head, “Oh would you now Parrish?” but then he’s leaning over the stick shift to kiss Adam anyway. It’s short and sweet, but it pleases Adam none the less.

Adam can’t help but wonder what this must feel like for Ronan. How long has Ronan been telling himself this is something he can’t have? It must be strange for him to suddenly be told it’s OK. Adam is more than familiar with the concept of believing something will never be yours, and how disorientating being proved wrong can be.

“We deserve this.” He breathes out fiercely, desperate to convince Ronan, desperate to convince himself. “Ronan, we both deserve this, OK?”

Ronan kisses him again then, and it’s a lot less chaste. It’s not comfortable to kiss in the car like this, and Adam wishes he’d undone his seatbelt before they started. He can feel the cheap hard fabric burning into his skin of his neck, cutting into him through his clothes as he leans further and further into Ronan’s space, his hands grabbing for whatever purchase they can find; Ronan’s coat, Ronan’s shoulders, Ronan’s neck, running over his buzzed head and cupping at his jaw. Twisting desperately in his seat, Adam feels his back protest, but then he feels Ronan’s tongue in his mouth and everything else is forgotten.

They kiss for what somehow feels like an eternity and not long enough at the same time. Both of them are breathless when they part, and Adam feels like he’s been electrocuted. He's hyper aware of every inch of his own skin suddenly, the dusty hairs on his arms standing on end from the current racing through him. Adam knows he should try and form a coherent thought, but he’s is a little lost in how dark Ronan’s eyes look, his pupils blown wide.

“Well fuck,” Ronan murmurs, and he let’s out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

Adam briefly toys with the idea of unbuckling his seatbelt and throwing himself at Ronan again, but the sensible part of his brain reminds him that he has to head off to his shift, and that they should really take things slow and steady, given how new it all is. But Adam never realised it would feel like this. It’s not a remotely logical thought to wish he could just stay here feel Ronan’s touch on his skin all day, but it’s very real all the same.

Ronan grins and touches Adam’s cheek with the back of his hand. “See you later Parrish.”

It sounds like a promise. Then Ronan’s clambering out of the car, all long limbs and coiled energy as he saunters over to the BMW looking like the cat that got the cream. I did that, Adam thinks. He’s happy and it’s because of me. It’s a feeling Adam could get used to.

Adam flexes his fingers on the worn leather of his steering wheel. He meets his own eyes and takes in his reflection in the inside mirror. Sensibly he knows to anyone else he’d look the same, albeit a bit ruffled, but to his own sharp eyes he looks different. Adam’s never liked his lips, thin and tight. In the past when he’s bothered to spare them a glance all he’s seen is his father’s cruel mouth reflected back at him. Now, as he looks at them in the mirror, they look fuller than usual, flushed from the way Ronan’s moved against them, more relaxed than tense. He raises his fingers to them absently as he thinks of all the times he’s been kissed today; how each one was different. He wants to catalogue the feeling of each one away carefully; how they felt physically, what they made him feel inside, so he never forgets. His lips are not like his father’s afterall, they aren’t just capable of spewing cruel words and bitter thoughts, they are capable of showing love, and of receiving it. His mouth, just like the rest of him, is his alone to wield as he will. Adam is not his father, and he is not the unlovable wretched creature his father told him he was. Adam is wanted, he is loved in many different ways by many different people, at least for now. It feels terrifying, it feels like more than he could have ever imagined for himself.

It makes him feel strong.

Adam has spent so long wanting to be more like someone else; more like Gansey, earnest of heart with a handshake to pull in anyone. More like Ronan, sharp and fierce. More like Blue, brave and fanciful. But maybe being Adam Parrish is OK. Adam Parrish is a fighter. Adam Parrish is driven and determined and always plans carefully. He’s going to fight to keep everything he holds dear the way he knows how. The Third Sleeper is out there, and Gansey’s name is still on the death list, but Adam is not alone. Despite everything, that fills him with a fierce sense of something that is foreign to him, he thinks it might be raw hope.

He’s still afraid, it’s hard not to remember the vision of Gansey dead at his feet and Ronan blaming him, of finding himself once again being alone. But Adam has waited so long for something that's his, and he won't let anyone or anything take it away from him. He has such wonderful friends and now, amazingly, he has this new thing with Ronan. Whatever happens, him and Blue must find a way to save Gansey; the alternative is unthinkable. Adam will set fire to the world to do it, if it means he gets to keep the people that have finally given him a home.

I am Adam Parrish. I am The Magician, and you will not take them away from me.